4:00 AM
by Anime Borat
Summary: The decisions we make in our lives will stay with us to the end of our days. We reflect on the lives we led. Some of it good, some of it bad. But it's all ours in the end. Just as Miller founds out as well as the truth. Spoilers for Metal Gear games.
1. Solitude of Regret

**4:00 AM**

A/N: This story takes place just prior to the events in Shadow Moses. Spoilers for most of the Metal Gear games. I wanted to portray the last moments of Kazuhira Miller before his death. The title draws inspiration from _4:00 AM_ by Taeko Ohnuki, appearing in her 1978 album, _Mignonne_. Ah, Youtube recommendations, I love you for it! The lyrics' translation and transliteration is the best I can come up with the sources on Google I can find. The title is more than just for its catchy beat as you'll read here. Spoilers for Metal Gear games.

 **Disclaimer** : Metal Gear is owned by Konami but still belongs to Kojima in my mind. Everything else here belongs to their respective owners.

* * *

Miller was nestled in his cabin in the Alaskan wilderness, the long winters, with their midnight suns and polar suns, giving him one thing he craved for: solitude. He wanted that ever since he left FOXHOUND, ever since he turned his back on his life of war. His quest for revenge satisfied after the fall of Zanzibar Land in the former Soviet Union but his soul was left wounded, could be never be fully healed after what Cipher did to him - and did to them.

The victory he attained was not without loss. He had to sacrifice the Phantom, the one man who stood for everything he believed in, fated to die in Africa to fulfill his revenge. That was what needed, rest, or so he told himself, so he can find peace in some place where he'll never be a pawn. He hoped those with him had died in battle, earning their peace as well. With Big Boss dead, the real one, the monster who abandoned him, there was nothing left to do but lay his weary soul to rest in the wilds of the north.

Though he had a house somewhere in the town, the cabin was his hideaway from the larger world, a small corner where he can find comfort and solace, to nurse the wounds that won't heal, could never heal in time. In it was a combo den and kitchen, the bedroom upstairs overlooking it. The walls were decorated with pictures from his days in Militaires Sans Frontières, the ones they could save anyway, together with those from Diamond Dogs. Some of those photos were tucked away in a little corner, those were too strong for him, either eliciting strong sorrow or strong anger, or both. He choose not to see them. In the far wall was a book shelf with several books, a tape library and a cassette home entertainment system. As vice-commander of MSF and later Diamond Dogs, he got to listen to a lot of music brought over by its various members from around the world. He approved the set up of a radio station with the Seychelles government's permission, in imitation of Adrian Cronauer's services in the US Armed Forces Radio Services during the Vietnam War, Radio Mother Base. It's a special treat for everyone on it due to restrictions imposed by Seychelles regulations governing radio broadcasting making them schedule their musical programs accordingly.

He got listen to many hits from David Bowie, Beatles, and other major artists; he sometimes tapped his cane to Heino's cover of German folksongs and was taken a trance by _Kraftwerk_ 's repertoire; there were protest and folk musical hits popular during their resurgence in the 60s; some surprisingly good contemporary music from the Eastern Bloc, among of them from a Yugoslavian band named Laibach; and last but not the least, a lot of music brought over from compatriots he recruited out of Japan.

A lot of good music, something he took for granted ever since he left Japan. Among his favorites were Sai Yoshiko's _Taiji no Yume_ , the entirety of self-taught jazz piano artist Ryu Fukui's first album, _Scenery_ from 1976, Maria Takeuchi's _Plastic Love_ , and Meiko Kaji's _Shura no Hana_ \- Flower of Carnage - from 1973. But his favorite was _4:00 AM_ by Taeko Ohnuki.

That song was something he picked up along the way in a brief sojourn in Japan in 1978, looking for people to join him in forming a small private security force. Picked it up at a shop for some music to pass idle moments. The song eventually became a part of him. In fact in Afghanistan, it was in his head when Venom came to rescue from that dark cell in Afghanistan.

At times like these 4:00 AM was the ending of binge of memories, both good and bad. It begins with New Order's _Elegia_ , a song he found appropriate for mourning and contemplation, followed by _Sing a Song_ by The Carpenters, remembering Strangelove's work, his own song, _Koi No Yokushiryoku_ \- Love Deterrence, which he made for Paz... He had made his own peace with her a long time ago, a triple agent, a pawn in Cipher's plans. He cannot hate the pitiful figure that Venom tried so hard to save anymore, took back, regretfully, his epithet of "bitch" posthumously. Different songs for different time but it always ends without exceptions at Ohnuki-san's masterpiece.

Here he sat in in front on a couch, his favorite Husky sleeping at his feet, the room lit with only the flames from the fireplace warming him, some good Scottish whiskey in hand for only that or from Ireland can calm his nerves tonight as the upbeat funk of _4:00 AM_ concluded his ritual. Only the clock on the far wall ticked and it was drowned away in the beat.

 _Mezameru to yoake mae_  
 _Yami wa iki o hisomete_  
 _Shizukesa ga oitsumeru_  
 _Kotoba ga mitsukaranai_

 _(Lord give me one more chance)_  
 _Kore ga saigo kashira_  
 _(Lord give me one more chance)_  
 _Dōnika shitai no_  
 _Ima o ima o nigashitanara_  
 _Surechigau_  
 _Kono mama de_  
 _Mō deaenai [x2]_

 _Koreijō otagaini_  
 _Gomakashi au no wa iya_  
 _Furikaeri omou tabi_  
 _Kotae ga mitsukaranai_

 _(Lord give me one more chance)_  
 _Kore ga saigo kashira_  
 _(Lord give me one more chance)_  
 _Dōnika shitai no [x2]_

The song translated to...

 _I open my eyes, before the break of dawn_  
 _The darkness steals my breath_  
 _The silence entraps me_  
 _I can't find the words to say_

 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _This might be the end_  
 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _I'd do anything_

 _Now, if we let the now get away,_  
 _We'll pass each other by,_  
 _and won't be able to meet like this again_  
 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _This might be the end_  
 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _I'd do anything_

 _Now, if we let the now get away,_  
 _We'll pass each other by,_  
 _and won't be able to meet like this again_

 _Let's not fool each other, more than we already are_  
 _Whenever I think back,_  
 _An answer can't be found._

 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _This might be the end_  
 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _I'd do anything_

 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _This might be the end_  
 _(Lord, give me one more chance)_  
 _I'd do anything_

He always thought of the lyrics and what do they mean. He found the lyrics were rather appropriate for his whole life up to this point. Waking up in the predawn darkness? It was many things to him, chief being the uncertainty that of his future as Mother Base sank beneath the Caribbean and with it his dream of the ground-breaking mercenary business. An all-encompassing silence that robbed him of his voice, his impotence at losing everything, at having them taken away from him, left to pick up the pieces. He never gave up, seeking another chance to rebuild, however far way as star it was. Then he came... the Phantom, the man who truly lived up to the legend of Big Boss, not the bastard who left him behind in the hospital to pursue his dream - their dream! - alone.

Even the song's title drawn him to it, he was sure of it. In Japan tetraphobia - fear of the number 4 - is rampant, similar to the Western superstition around the number 13. Four translated into Chinese and Japanese is eerily similar to the word "death" in their respective terms... _shi_. Death. So much death had happened to him, the comrades they lost on Mother Base, Chico, Strangelove, Paz... How many have died in his lifetime? How many good friends? The number was too great to count, each with a name and a life once lived. And the song itself seemed to describe a woman's one last chance of meeting her love in the predawn darkness, a love who continues to deny her feelings - and his. They have no answer why they do so - failing to convey their feelings and desires.

Had it come this? The rift that broke him and Big Boss? He lied to him about Paz and professor, so he can get their help in building MSF, a devil's deal to be sure, especially through Paz's affiliation with Cipher, who promised him - them - contracts, which would allow MSF to grow large in the emerging security business with them at the top, their dream come true! He wanted to it so badly for them, so that they won't have to be beg for work, shit work, from national government all around, fighting for meager pay dirt. If they're powerful enough as a company, a private, non-state entity, they can choose who they work for and what kind of contracts they can fulfill. As a Swiss member from the canton of Uri, who took the codename of Crossbow Bull, had said, powers will be beholden to MSF just as his people, the Swiss, made lords and kings in Europe vie for their legendary combat prowess, engaging in bidding wars just to have them or at least prevent the other fellow from using them against you, making the soldier for the first time in many years a player, not a pawn in somebody else's game.

That was what they wanted, right? No more living under the dirt waiting or seeking work, no more being hounded by authorities when the situation changes, no more worrying of empty pockets when everything's all said and done. Yet in his eagerness, he was shortsighted enough to not to see Zero did not take kindly to Big Boss's refusal to join, seeing a threat thus unleashing Skull Face on them, deciding them to wipe out a potential threat to his own quest of power. using the AIs based on Strangelove's work and a trio of clones, counterfeits to Snake in order to rule the world.

He felt his missing limbs again, the cold always did in spite of the warmth of the fire. He was left a cripple, a painful realization of his terrible error in dealing with Zero behind Big Boss's back. Oh how would give everything for another chance to make things right for him, to repay the damage he had caused in dealing with Zero, to repair their dream together and their brotherhood, wanting so much kneel and say he was sorry for what he did. And he thought he did back in Diamond Dogs, the Phantom he thought was _him_. The man he fought side-by-side to bring down Skull Face when it was clear he was off the reservation with his mad scheme with the parasites and Sahelanthropus, he thought it was the second chance until Ocelot broke the news of his second betrayal, the earth-shattering truth that Big Boss, Snake, was false! He was none other than the medic aboard Pequod when they tried to rescue Paz and Chico.

His mind raged, gripping the glass tumbler at how they used one his most loyal soldiers to be literal copycat. It was sickening! A man who was turned into a blank slate by a piece of shrapnel on his head, his "horn," destroying his identity, a man who would give his life a hundred times over for the legend, was reduced to a canvas of an ersatz copy, a body double acting as figurehead, bait, and important lieutenant to the legend in hiding, a legend who hid his tail between his legs! The worse part was that this man was more like Big Boss than the real one ever was! And the kicker was that he retained his loyalty, even when Kaz tried to break the truth, he refused to believe that he wasn't Big Boss, and had Miller expelled from Diamond Dogs, being made privy to a radio message between Venom and Big Boss, he stayed through to the latter as he lay dying and the whole thing falling apart around him, relieved and satisfied that he played his role to the fullest in spite of just having learned whole thing before Solid Snake came. The bastard used a decoy's, a good man's, undying loyalty to further his plans, his own vision of Outer Heaven.

He despondently put his hand on his face in shame. Had he sunk that low? Supporting Venom to the best in his ability to make Diamond Dogs strong enough to face him in the inevitable showdown. Using one of the "sons" as his tool for vengeance against Big Boss, had he become as monstrous as the monster in killing his best friend in Africa, wanting him to put a stop in supporting the monster's scheme. Now having faced and killed the real one in Zanzibarland, the former Soviet Union, had turned him into a wreck, was he any different now? Betrayal, obsession, and calculated callousness to their actions' consequences, that's the parity he had achieved with Big Boss.

"Dear Lord, forgive me..." he muttered under his breath. Solid Snake, was no longer a "son," he was more than that. He was a good man, like the medic had been. Oh how he was used him, trained him harder than any Green Beret seconded to FOXHOUND with exception of Gray Fox, back then being only avoiding Big Boss like plague except for the most perfunctory functions. He owed him a lot for killing the real Big Boss. Ever since then, having to proverbially kill him twice, Snake was slipping away, tearing himself apart. The one great positive thing being was rejecting the Silver Star for his role in taking down Big Boss, just as Solid Snake rejected the Congressional Medal of Honor, stating that they should not be rewarded for putting down a monster. No cheap medal can recompense the pain their ordeals had brought them. Honor... in a nation that revere the samurai ethos, there was no honor in what they've done. Just as it had when Snake killed his mentor in '64.

Especially Snake. Snake had broken down, disorderly conduct, insubordination, dereliction of duty, destruction of property of both military and civilian, conducting unbecoming, going AWOL, he would have ended up in Leavensworth if what wasn't for him and his citation in the destruction of Outer Heaven. He owe it to him to set the record straight. Last he heard Snake retired in Twin Lakes. He was raising Alaskan Huskies for some breeder and was talk of the Iditarod racing circuit. He should try meet him sometime, try to repair the damage he caused him. He also had to talk with his ex-wife Nadine and their daughter Catherine, he owe it to them for not being enough for them, having been wallowed up by the results of his revenge.

The music stopped. He stared at the crackling fire. Yes, he had a lot to pay for. He had done a great deal of grief to the whole world at large. His throbbing stumps can attest to that. "What a mess we made when it all comes down to it it..." The world was a now less safe, less equitable place. His dream was taking on frightening forms that would eventually consume the planet. The irony was that he did not get Cipher, whom they were initially after, having killed Big Boss, there was no one to oppose him from taking over the world with his secretive electronic reach. He looked at the glass, now empty. Better get another round, he thought.

The clock struck at 1:30 AM. Looking up he realized that if you add one and three in 13, you get four. A wry smile on his face. Couldn't been more fitting.

There was a knock on the door. The Husky perked up his ears and growled slowly, sitting up as it faced the door. He calmed him down and put down the glass. He gripped the Colt M1911 tucked in its holster beneath his jacket. Whoever was there, he's not about to make it easy. That horrible night in 1975 taught him that.

"Miller, are you there?" the voice outside called out. He got up on his came like a jackrabbit. Ocelot!? Here? There was no mistaking that voice of his. He shook his head. It was no surprise Ocelot had come here, to finish the job, for Big Boss. But coming here to knock the door and ask to be let in? That's not Ocelot's style, why the hell would he do that? Or was there something he wasn't seeing?

"Miller, I know you're in there," Ocelot continued. "I'm here to talk." The audacity, he thought. He put his sunglasses on.

"Yeah, I'm here," he called back. "Be there in a minute. It gotta get up." He groaned as he used his cane to pick himself up and hobbled towards the door. "If this was one of your tricks, Ocelot, you got a strange way of making an entry."

"Well, this isn't your usual social call, I take it," he agreed.

Miller made it to the door. "Stand back," he ordered. He heard the muffled sounds of boots and spurs outside the door. He agreed, how wonderful. Miller deftly unlocked the door and opened, only to see a face he thought was unlikely to see anytime soon, yet he expected him. That hateful face with its windblown hair, reminding him of Lee Van Cleef, Lee Marvin, and Christopher Lloyd, but without Doc Brown's warmth. The Russian cowboy, Revolver Ocelot, Shalashaska.

"Good morning, Miller," Ocelot greeted politely.

"What brings you here," he asked wearily, "besides trying to kill me."

"I just want a little chat with you," he answered. "Well, it's not actually little. We better take a seat."

Miller quickly balanced himself on his cane and quickly pulled out his Colt. "Take off your guns."

Ocelot did not flinch at the sight of his quick pulling of gun. He raised his hands slowly. "Of course. If you want me to check my guns, I'll need a place to put them over. And my coat too if you will."

Miller was not taken aback by this. He was more wary than ever. Ocelot seemed... compliant. But he knew he was a master spy, a class of his own. He got them the most intelligence back in Diamond Dogs while serving several masters. But he knew he only serve one. A dead one. If he wants to finish him off, why not now? His life wasn't exactly a secret. He made no attempts to hide anything from anyone.

"Well?" Ocelot asked, still standing like a guest waiting to enter at the master of the house's consent. That pleasant demeanor irritated Miller. He was sure he was trying to spring something on him.

"Put your coat and guns on the coat stand." It was what Miller finally said after several seconds. Ocelot was about to step in when Miller added, "No tricks."

"Alright." Ocelot stepped in, scraping the rug at the entrance to dry his boots. The Husky emerged from the darkness and growled threateningly at him

Before Miller can calm the beast, Ocelot made a few whistles and said, "Calm down, boy." They were enough to placate the Husky, which soon acted around like a puppy around him. Miller forgot that Ocelot knew his way around animals a bit.

"That's a good boy," the superspy said satisfied as he patted him and lick his hand in response. Miller turned away. He could remember D-Dog, Venom, and of course, Ocelot. The memories were too fresh, they scene before just too painful for him to look at. God, make it stop!

When he was finished petting the dog, Ocelot got up and turned to Miller. "So, what's his name?"

"Johnny," the former hellmaster replied. "I named him Johnny."

"Johnny," he repeated. "Good name."

"So what's all this talk all about?" Kaz asked skeptically, still not believing Ocelot was here to do just that.

"Well, Miller, for starters, FOXHOUND's here in Alaska, planning something big." This was enough for Miller to look at the cowboy in all seriousness.

* * *

A/N: This was originally a one-shot but I thought up enough material to make this a mini-series of its own. A lot of my knowledge comes from the Metal Gear wiki. A bit of trivia here, the avant-garde industrial music band, Laibach, had its beginnings in the former Yugoslavia during the early 80s. Swiss MSF member, Crossbow Bull is a reference to the Black Bull, the heraldry animal of the Canton of Uri, one of the three founding members of the Swiss Confederation, now modern-day Switzerland. The _crossbow_ of his codename is a reference the legendary hero of Switzerland, William Tell (Wilhelm Tell), who hailed from Uri. Swizterland was certainly one of the closest things to a military nation that Big Boss envisioned (the other ones being Sparta or Prussia) where its main and most famous occupation between the 14th century and early 16th century was being one of its famous pikemen. The Swiss pikemen greatly refined the pike square that was gradually adopted throughout Europe during the 13th century, marking the transition from heavily-armored cavalry to infantry as the core of an army. It also meant a change in mindset from conscripted poorly-trained peasant levies to well-trained highly-motivated fighters who soldiering as a profession than obligation. The Swiss mercenary themselves had little respect for knightly trappings and etiquette in addition to giving no quarter.

People wondered how Miller had to wear glasses all the time, especially in Phantom Pain. Some assumed it was congenital syphilis he contracted from his mother in her time as a prostitute during the Occupation period, where she met Miller's father. Others think it may have to do with the parasites. I believe it had to do with the trauma he went through, first with the Skulls, then in the hands of the Soviets in Afghanistan. It's true, physical trauma can affect the eyes, especially on the head. Pilots who went through particularly violent injuries on crashes sometimes suffer damage that affects their eyes, often enough to put them out of flying for the rest of their lives. They can still see but they lost a part of their sight critical to flying. That's one mundane example that makes sense for Miller's condition. Adrian Cronauer, the USAF radio DJ would be best known in the movie _Good Morning, Vietnam_ , portrayed by the late and great Robin Williams thought much of the movie had very little to do with the real Cronauer's experience there.


	2. Rebel Yell

A/N: This chapter focuses on Miller's conversation with Ocelot, super spy, master and keeper of secrets, supreme manipulator and cunning strategist, and Kojima's in-game stand-in. This contains a LOT of spoilers from the series. I try as much as possible to conform to Metal Gear lore, inserting some of my own take on them. Like the games, this chapter is dialogue-heavy. My thanks to the guest reviewer for my first review.

 **Disclaimer** : Metal Gear is owned by Konami but still belongs to Kojima in my mind. Everything else here belongs to their respective owners.

* * *

The thuds of Miller's cane and prosthetic foot, his Husky's paws with their claws tapping, and Ocelot's boots and spurs echoed on the floor as they walked to the table in the kitchen part of the house, while Johnny's scraping was heard below that. Miller practically spent a lifetime crippled, refusing even advanced prosthetic, preferring to bear the scars of his past, the badge of pain and honor he held what he and his comrades lost. With a remote he started the player again, selecting Bill Idol's _Rebel Yell_. They pulled out chairs and sat down. Miller had a good grace to have some drinks within easy reach. "Well, pick your poison, Ocelot, I don't know if you drink vodka or whiskey." The husky curled beside Miller's feet.

 _How cute_ , Ocelot thought. A touch of grim humor in a thoroughly mundane situation. "I don't know... What would you recommend?"

"Well, I've got a twelve-year old Scotch and some Finnish vodka. It's good as the premium Russian stuff," Miller answered.

"I'll have what you're taking," Ocelot replied. "Better be served by the host's choice."

"Better as a show of good faith," Miller said, almost seeming to read Ocelot's mind. One-handed, he poured the smoky alcoholic nectar of the gods into their glasses. He passed Ocelot's glass with a special pointer.

They both took sips from their glasses. "So what's FOXHOUND up to this time?"

"FOXHOUND is assigned to the the nuclear weapons storage facility in Shadow Moses island to beef up security, along with the Next-Generation Special Forces group, the guys who underwent the US Army's Force XXI concept, which included VR training."

"Shadow Moses... I heard of that name." Miller downed his drink and proceeded to pour in another. "I heard that the Pentagon had outsourced the facility's administration to Northmoor Nuclear Solutions, who built the facility in '02. Before that it was a link to both NORAD's net and a previously classified SOSUS network in along the Aleutian Islands during the Cold War. Next Generation Special Forces group being there makes sense as security but FOXHOUND's overkill."

"Exactly. The Pentagon still owns the island and they're there to protect the stored warheads as part of De-MIRVing began in STAR-II (Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty) back in 1993."

"FOXHOUND... Security..." Miller mused. "History's repeating itself... What are they up to? Some heist for nuclear material? Running security is perfect cover for one."

"Well, that's a good thought but not exactly what I have to say." Ocelot drank his and Miller poured him another. The truth is that storage facility is cover for for an R&D site, Northmoor is a dummy corporation owned by defense contractor ArmsTech."

"What are we getting at?" Miller asked, annoyed by Ocelot's little puzzles. Then it struck him. "Wait... you don't mean..."

"That's right," Ocelot answered what Miller was afraid to say out loud, "they're developing a new kind of weapon and FOXHOUND is planning to use it."

"What sort of weapon?" He was afraid of the answer.

"A Metal Gear."

Even with his glasses on, Ocelot can see Kaz's eyes widen in shock. "My God..."

"Yes, a new Metal Gear is being developed in Shadow Moses with the cooperation of DARPA."

"And FOXHOUND wants their grubby hands on it," Miller concluded. "What do they want with it?"

Ocelot sipped his drink, the liquid warming him inside. "They want one billion dollars and the body of Big Boss in 24 hours."

The mention of Big Boss caused Kaz to look up. "One billion dollars seems like a drop in the bucket, even if it puts a dent in the Pentagon's annual budget but what the hell would they want with Big Boss's charred husk? Isn't it buried in some unmarked pauper's grave?"

"Well, Big Boss's corpse isn't exactly buried as it was put into deep-freeze. Remember the NGSF? They got a little boost besides their VR training: they received genetic enhancements."

Miller's mouth went slack. He could not believe this! "Genetic enhancements?"

"Yup, genome soldiers." He put his glass down. "The research into Les Enfant Terrible and the Parasites program provided enough data for genetic enhancement, basically through the use of a viral vector to deliver the desired genetic qualities."

"Wait, they're creating super soldiers on par of Big Boss!" he exclaimed.

"Yup, the Pentagon is and with Big Boss's genetic Legos no less."

"But President George Sears based his foreign policy on nuclear disarmament and anti-eugenics. He promised in his campaign never to create an 'atmosphere of abuse on the Human Genome Project' in his speech at Ohio University. How about his speech to Holocaust survivors during the 60th anniversary of VE day declaring no man will cause turmoil with claims of genetic superiority?"

"Do you really think the US government would go with the policies of the great white father Sears?" the Spetsnaz cowboy asked rhetorically. "Or for that matter, would Sears keep his campaign promises?"

Miller understood. "Oh yeah, I forgot. He's a politician and he has a responsibility to keep the public happy, keep the military happy, and keeping the good ol' US of A on top of the food chain." Another bitter, cynical truth that had to be acknowledged.

"Well, he's more than that," Ocelot added for him. "He's the third son."

"What!?" How many of the little devils were there.

"Yes. George Sears goes by the name of Solidus Snake. And he's running the country but not on behest on the American people or the establishment. He's receiving orders from the Patriots."

"The Patriots?" Miller questioned, genuinely surprised. "I though that venture was finished when Big Boss and Zero split. Did he revived it?"

"You're not wrong," Ocelot answered, causing Miller a degree of incredulity. "But Zero never revived anything. Or for that matter, no word of his whereabouts either. But something assumed the mantle of the Patriots. We'll get back to that later. Let's focus on Shadow Moses first."

Ocelot waited for Miller to protest and demand to discuss the Patriots first. He did not. "Okay, Shadow Moses. What's else is going on?"

"FOXHOUND's got a nice line up of specialists, real heavy hitters like the former Cobra Unit and the guys gathered by both Big Bosses."

"There is only _one_ Big Boss," Miller snapped harshly, "and that charlatan ordered Snake to kill him in 1995, the one true Boss. The other has gone to hell."

Ocelot had a rare moment of emotion, however subtle it was to Miller. The former executive officer of Diamond Dogs knew that Ocelot had a strong degree of admiration for the legend. He knew he was displeased with what Miller had said. Had he cracked a chink in the master spy's armor?

Ocelot cleared his throat, breaking up the silence. He chose not to jump Miller on that. "My apologies, Miller. That was hard on you. And I owe him, we owe him, a lot than the world gives him credit for. Heck, even I miss him. As I said, FOXHOUND's membership contained unique individuals with special abilities but you might be interested on Campbell's replacement leading FOXHOUND. His name's Liquid Snake."

"Liquid Snake?" Wait, there's another one? A second snake.

"But you might know him as White Mamba."

"Eli..." he whispered with a chill. "One of the 'sons.'"

"Yup, the kid from the Congo. He's alive with a vengeance."

"But I thought he died in that island on the lake back in '84," Miller protested. "How could he have survived the vocal cord parasites? Was it what inspired the genome soldier research?"

"Not exactly. Someone saved his life. His only companion in that island: Tretij Rebenok."

"The Third Child?" he translated the term. "The psychic whose power was harnessed by the rage of others like Skull Face and the Man on Fire."

"He removed the vocal cord parasites with just a wave of his psychic power and lifted him out of the island before the napalm strike."

"I don't think anybody would survived that but I can believe you on that. How did he after that?"

"Bounced around foster homes, good ones too, getting in trouble with the law. He joined the British Army in '89 and passed selection with flying colors to join the Special Air Service the next year, been with Machinegun Kid since then. His SAS squad participated in the SCUD hunts but it was cover for his insertion as sleeper agent in Iraq. He participated in the 1991 uprisings, when Saddam's secret police caught him and tortured him. He was disavowed but the Americans helped him out of that hole. Being the best at every military and related skill, they put him in charge of FOXHOUND."

"Impressive for his age, just like Solid in the Special Forces."

"So did Tretij Rebenok," he added. "He's part of FOXHOUND too as Psycho Mantis. He actually managed some good before that. Worked with the KGB until the fall of the Union, became a US citizen, worked as a profiler and interrogator of serial killers for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He did his bit being good citizen until a particular nasty case in 2000 warped his mind. After that he sort of drifted, selling his skills for the highest bidder but he couldn't take it, seeing all the shit in people's minds."

"Probably ran back to Liquid since he's the only one person in the world who can help him cope with his psychic problems," Miller concluded at length.

"In a way, Liquid is the one person he can count on," Ocelot concurred. "Psychologically at least. Mantis, like back in his rather horrid youth, wears a gas mask to help him manage the psychic stream around him. Liquid promised him a means to unleash his psychic fury on the world."

"Jesus, they got possibly the best interrogator and psyops expert in the world. God help whoever goes against them." He was about to pour another when a thought him. "How about we dispense with the alcohol and go dry, or better yet, skip drinks altogether. At my state going to the bathroom to take a piss is lot like a hike up the woods." He also wanted to deny Ocelot any opportunity to poison him.

"Yeah, good idea, I'm fine at the moment," Ocelot agreed. "Also they saved Gray Fox from Zanzibar Land."

"But Gray Fox was supposed to be dead! He died in that minefield. God..." Gray Fox, another casualty in his quest for vengeance, another body laying in a heap, a statistic in the body count they all incurred.

Ocelot shook his head. "He was clinically dead, which is to say his body is beyond any state of restoration. The rest of him that was salvaged was put into a cyborg shell, courtesy of Dr Clarke, FOXHOUND's own in-house genius in genetics and cybernetics, with a little help from DARPA."

"Can't they let the poor guy rest?" Miller was disgusted by this news. "Jaeger's suffered enough. A child soldier from Mozambique, turned into an assassin by the CIA who's stowed him away in some sensory-deprivation tank when not in use. After he was free he pursues a life of war, heavily mutilated by FRELIMO troops, taking care of an orphaned Indian girl - he made orphaned when he killed her parents. We rescued him, set him up for life in Diamond Dogs to support her." He paused in recollection. "Then he meets the love of his in Calgary, Czech figure skater Gustava Heffner, tries to help her apply for asylum, denied by the State Department, a move that destroyed her life and made him harbor hate for politicians and bureaucrats. He once flipped the bird on Schultz during a bodyguard assignment when the State Department was negotiating some executive protection contracts in Africa." That prompted him to chuckle, recalling the look on Schultz's face and how he had to reprimand administratively, making him serve in Mother Base's large kitchen for the remainder of the tour.

The master spy chuckled too. He was there as well.

The chuckling stopped as they resumed his tale. "Then he leaves and joins up with FOXHOUND... Earned the man's eye for talent, highly decorated and earning the unit's highest commendation, the code name of Fox. He was an equal to the man himself and his identity was classified top-secret."

"Yeah, very ghoulish of them," Ocelot agreed darkly. "It's not enough they pressed him hard in life, they want him to fight on for them in death, just a killing machine they can use without a will of its own."

"How the hell did they turn Gray Fox into...," he tried to make out the words but no alternative to the ridiculous and disrespectful term avail, "'cyborg ninja?"

"That Soviet bionics engineer we rescued at Afghanistan?" Ocelot asked.

"Dr. Drago Pettrovich Madnar," answered Kaz. "I remember. He was responsible for Venom's bionic arm and he took over Huey's research when we booted him out. His work on Huey's Battle Gear lead to the TX-55 Metal Gear. He quit midway when he realized what Snake intended to do with it, forcing him to kidnap his daughter Yelena to coerce him into completing it."

"He also design the TX-11 cyberoid units, code-named Bloody Brad. Dr. Clark took his bionic and cyberoid research to create a cybernetic shell to support Gray Fox's broken body. Hell of a way propping up the dead like that."

"Bastards." Kaz looked at a bottle but decided against it. "Gray Fox is alive when he fights but it's because of his hellish youth. Prod him with a stick and you're liable to get bit."

"Let's say Clark prodded Fox a bit too much and got a bite of cold steel in return." It brought grin on Miller's face, a dark one that said _serves her right_.

"I recall that it was Clark who was behind the Les Enfant Terrible program. Why is a biologist interested in cybernetics?"

"Clark is first and foremost a doctor," Ocelot pointed out. "Healing people is her first calling since '64. I believe it had something to do with reviving Big Boss."

"Give him a shell like Gray Fox, it would also act as his prison," Kaz said with him no affection but shuddered at the implications.

"She also used his genes on American soldiers prior to the First Gulf War, just to see how the idea of 'soldier genes' would work in real-life combat conditions. The war's quick-stomping end deprived its test subjects any real conditions to gauge the reaction but its side effects were pronounced in the popularly-called 'Gulf War Syndrome.'"

Miller looked at Ocelot. "You're telling me the Pentagon used those soldiers as guinea pigs for their 'Franken-genes?' Jesus H. Christ!" He gripped his good hand, the only one, into a fist. "How many people had to suffer over the years for our collective hubris?"

"Until the other side gives up. When they deemed the price too high. But what we're fighting for is not hubris, it's clarity. Bringing down Cipher and making sure power doesn't remain in the hands of one man. That to act as a deterrent soldiers should ban together and be a law unto themselves, to be no longer tethered to the political interests of nation-states. You wanted that too."

Miller glared at him. "No, my vision was armed forces for hire as the coming thing in the world economy. We call the shots on which clients we chose, which contracts we fulfill. War should be in the hands of dedicated professionals, not scared 19-year-old kids with barely three months' training, or a peasant dragged out of his house and given some rusty rifle and told to attack, or a bunch of incompetent thugs whose idea of war is burning some village and taking those people to a mass grave."

"So it offends you that national armies and amateurs fuck up a battle?" Ocelot asked pointedly.

"Yeah..." he breathed. "It does. No grace, no competence, no foresight. My vision would have changed everything. Or so I told myself at the time. The private forces' sector we founded took a pretty crooked course over the years. Executive Outcomes, Sandline International, and Blackwater to name a few are poster boys of mercenaries as dogs of war. Big business for developed nations brought conflict in other parts of the world. Wherever national armies fought the private military contracts are on the heels profiting, rivaling arms dealers in rapacity and millions made. Where they can't fight, the PMCs do the dirty work. We are the very human face of the otherwise clinically-detached military-industrial complex. Eisenhower was right after all."

The next song to play was the Midge Ure cover of David Bowie's _The Man Who Sold the World_.

Ocelot stroked his chin a while. "Let me ask you something: where would those soldiers be once a war's over? Not all of them can return to civilian life. The hands that felt the rifle as they shoot it, strip it and cleaned will remember that feeling. They also remember the adrenaline rush of combat. The hardship and camaraderie. That's something they can't find in civilian life nor can civilians ever emphasize. And what of their victories or defeats? What did he really achieve? A reduction of the price of gas or a pound of bananas? The stocks of defense contractors climbing a few points? Achieving the objective of someone's foreign policy agenda? The places he go to war to are often even worse off than before. Peace is only a time for politicians to scheme and plan the next war, with little appreciation for their skills or sacrifice. Big Boss's Outer Heaven is the one place where they are valued, welcomed, and needed without being alienated afterwards. A nation for soldiers."

"Lunacy," Miller exclaimed.

"What Cipher proposed for humanity is a greater lunacy: the world kept on an electronic straitjacket for its own perceived good. But since people wouldn't just give up willingly or notice something's amiss in the air, they have to give it up voluntarily. To do that you manufacture a crisis. Anything involving Metal Gears is a good one."

Miller was silent as he contemplated the facts presented so far. "Cipher's really at it." Then he thought of the current Metal Gear threat. "How the hell did Armstech have access to Metal Gear technology?"

"Well, for starters, they had to start from scratch. The destruction of the first Outer Heaven took down all the data related to the TX-55. They had to turn to Granin's design to create Metal Gear D. The Metal Gear threats have inspired the Americans to consider building their own. It would be the third time America has tried their hand in such designs, after RAXA and ICBMG in 1970, and the Peace Walker program in 1974. ArmsTech, the people behind Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative, next-generation stealth technology, and the rail gun programs, was in dire straits thanks to the Clinton's military cutbacks. With its failure to bid for designing the USAF's next top-of-the-pine fighter, the wolves of Wall Street were keen on buying up its stocks while rivals in the defense industry were eyeing hungrily for its assets. Kenneth Baker approached Donald Anderson-"

"SIGINT?"

"Yeah, that's him. He proposed of creating a Metal Gear. A lot money changed hands to between them to get the black project going, financed by funds freed up from the cancelled Arsenal Ship Project. The Pentagon, though initially outraged by this behind-the-scenes dealing, was let in due to its own downsizing problems. They provided the Shadow Moses facility to house the project its code name REX." Ocelot paused to collect his breath. He was also thinking about this one fact he was about to disclose. "And history repeats itself in more ways than one. The chief project engineer for REX? His name is Hal Emmerich."

Miller's eyes widened behind the glasses. "Hal... Huey's son?"

"Seems he wants to follow his old man's footsteps. He's even taken on the impression we gave him for need-to-know that it was a high-tech defensive countermeasure against ballistic missiles."

"Hal didn't know his dad wanted to stick him inside Sahelanthropus for a test drive?"

"I don't think anybody told, much less his dad. Poor kid had a bad break in the family. Huey committed suicide by drowning in the family pool, tried to drag his sister Emma with him. She survived but was shaken and both she and Hal fell out over it. Hal's a real genius like his dad. He dropped out of school but took advantage of the Internet to become a self-made scholar, enough to earn a PhD from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and a Bachelor's and Master's Degrees from Princeton University. He joined the Engineering Research Facility, though he was under investigation by the FBI. He was expelled after he was caught caught monitoring and hacking their central database. He not only helped revised the old design but also developed a miniature version of the stealth technology developed by ArmsTech, enough for a soldier to use on his person."

"He is something alright. We also developed stealth tech back in Diamond Dogs based on Huey's notes. That Vietnamese guy, Night Fright, used it back in Africa."

"I approved of it. A lot of tech was developed by our boys a long time ago."

"Yeah, a lot of good stuff went down when NATO blew the whole place up: the Wormhole Fulton, the E-Stun Decoy, the Hand of Jehuty, unmanned drones that are actually serviceable, Noctocyanin and Acceleramin. The patients held on them alone can make you a billionaire though that's not what you're after."

"I bet Hal's gonna be rolling in bucks from all the contract money from black project REX though he'll be much like his old man: the whole scientific community will give him a hip-hip hooray when it's out."

"Feeling a bit of deja vu?" Ocelot asked, his face lit by the dim light filtering through the window.

Miller realized what he meant. "Shit... Many time is this gonna replay like a some damned movie franchise from twenty years ago. Snake's been through enough of this shit!"

Ocelot nodded. "Unfortunately, this script's production will go on as scheduled and Solid Snake will be in the starring role no matter what. That's the way it is."

"Don't you people get it !?" Miller roared in anger, suddenly standing up and shakily steadying himself up. His dog got up, confused by his master's outburst. "He's now a fucking wreck and you're pulling him back in? Who the hell are you working for?" Even at his physical state, no one can doubt Miller was ready to pounce on him. Already he was drawing his pistol at Ocelot.

"I work for Liquid now," Ocelot admitted, not flinching from the sight of the gun. "I'm part of FOXHOUND."

"Why?" the hell master demanded, pulling the hammer back.

"Of all the people back in 1984, I'm the one he felt was not hostile. He turned to me for useful advice. My cover was being a former KGB agent and Spetsnaz operative who left Russia dissatisfied with the way my country was going, joining up in '99. I specialize in interrogation."

"I thought that was Rebenok's specialty," commented Miller icily, still standing up.

"Sometime it requires my finesse. Looking into someone's mind without an objective is like looking for gold nuggets on the Klondike."

"Yeah, considering how you got the Viscount to talk twenty-one years ago." He had to concede to that spy bastard's skill. Miller sat back down, withdrawing the pistol back in its holster, putting the safety on. The dog calmed down and lain on its belly on the floor.

"But he won't be alone. To get him back in the game, he needs someone he can trust, besides you of course."

"Roy. You're talking about Roy Campbell?" He knew Roy during his tenure in FOXHOUND, first as executive officer to Big Boss, then finally as its commander. Under him, FOXHOUND acted as a test bed for new military technology such as personal radar, the XM29 OICW, a portable interface with spy satellites that provided the user with real-time overhead intelligence.

"Yes. And because of one thing: his niece Meryl Silverburgh is part of the garrison at Shadow Moses."

Miller knew about little Meryl due to Campbell telling him about how she's doing. "How did she get into the program?"

"She wasn't. She's brought in to fill in the ranks after a few NGSF guys who bought in the harsh conditions. Also he's not actually his niece. She's actually his daughter, much like Sgt. Arthur Wilson in that old sitcom, _Dad's Army_ , only he doesn't know it yet."

"This stinks... too much to be a fucking coincidence." Miller felt sick. This sort of manipulation had become depressingly commonplace: getting someone's cooperation by promising an "accident" to a loved one.

"Yeah, too much. I found out about just a few days ago and only because someone in the DIA got to that first, a Major Richard Ames."

"Someone is setting up a rigged poker game," Miller noted. "Snake's gonna be forced into a black bag job once a again."

"It's the only recourse: some of the people on that island are not meant to come back alive and Snake will have to take some of them out, even without his knowledge."

"I have to warn, Snake." Miller was about to stand up.

"That won't be necessary," Ocelot said, his hand raised urging the former hell-master to stand down.

"Why the hell it isn't?" he snapped. Miller owed Snake a measure of peace away from the outside world, away from the callous cruelty that seemed to govern it. He had saved the world twice at the cost of being through that meat-grinder.

"Because the whole thing is set and it's now in motion."

"Tell me who is behind this, Ocelot." He was about to go for his gun but he decided against. Its appearance alone would put some weight on their discussion. "Cipher? The Patriots?"

"Not Cipher or the Patriots," Ocelot replied. "Solidus."

"And what does Solidus, President Sears, or whatever gain from this?" The question was heavy and cold as the ice outside.

"Freedom." The answer was just as frosty and heavy as the question that elicited it. "Real freedom."

"And by 'freedom" what does that mean?"

"Still remember Dr. Kio Marv?" Ocelot answered a question with a question.

"He's the Czech biologist responsible for OILIX, an alternative to petroleum based on genetically-modified algae. He died in Zanzibar Land. His work never saw the light of day because of OPEC, Big Oil in America, and the powerful coal lobbies worldwide."

"That's partly true though there should have been supporters for OILIX among the scientific community. But we've never heard anything of OILIX since then. Somebody has suppressed knowledge of OILIX. They've done it a thousand times. They're shrouded in secrecy within the American defense community. The Patriots, and Solidus is now chafing in his leash."

"How does Shadow Moses help him achieve 'freedom for all?'" asked Miller pointedly.

"The plan is for me to set things in motion by convincing Liquid between drinks of beer. He was resentful of being robbed of his chance to challenge Big Boss and of his 'birth' and purpose as a clone. He wanted to become something more, more than Big Boss or his brother, Solid. I informed him that he was an inferior clone of Big Boss."

"Inferior? How is that so?"

"I told Liquid that he was created as a dumping ground for Big Boss's inferior genes, guinea pig to observe comparisons. He's not as you can remember back in Africa."

"Yeah, he was one strong, agile, and clever kid," Miller attested, recalling the mayhem Eli. "At twelve years old what he did was pretty impressive - enough to disturb me and Snake. And I still don't like his attitude."

"He doesn't like that name he was given to him, Eli. He feels that being created a soldier, having a name beside a code name is useless. Kinda like _Boys from Brazil_ , of which the entire Les Enfant Terrible program was having preceded. It'snot enough you make a little Hitler. You have to mimic the circumstances on which he grew up in to have your new Fuhrer."

"Jesus, what have you bastards made of them? Damn it, Eli."

"He also planned most of the operation by himself though I had to be there to keep it grounded. Seize control of the entire sight, hold Baker and Sigint hostage, threaten a nuclear strike on the White House unless the billion dollars and Big Boss's remains are delivered to them. It's a crock. Washington is not going to fulfill those demands with the deadline and Liquid knew it. Instead, the purpose was to create international turmoil. The operation is to coincide with the beginning of the START III accords. A successful test run of REX's capabilities will expose to the world America's dirty secret. Russia will walk out of the accords, stung by American duplicity and international confidence on Washington's commitment to stopping nuclear proliferation takes a downward spiral and the inevitable shitstorm when the Genome soldiers are exposed is gonna take hurricane levels. In addition, a Russian Spetsnaz colonel is taking an interest in these developments. A friend of mine, Sergei Gurlukovich, has loaned Liquid a couple of Hind-D gunships. He wants REX. We're supposed to sell it to him after he sees a successful test launch."

"That's crazy. You're just gonna sell away your only leverage against a counterstrike by Washington?"

"That's the point of him creating chaos, create a chockful of shit and smoke they can disappear into. With REX in Russia - who wouldn't their hands on it? - Russia and America would at each other's throats once again while Liquid, FOXHOUND, and a thousand Genome soldiers run amok throughout the world."

"That's a recipe for disaster."

"It is but Liquid hoped to at least fulfill the demand for Big Boss's remains. The Genome soldiers? They're dying slowly."

"What!?"

"Liquid needs Big Boss's body in order to study his genes, find a way to reverse this malaise that's killing them inside at a steady pace. He believes the theorized Soldier Genes can salvage their situation. He's also spoiling for a fight with Solid. If he can't have his showdown with Big Boss, he'll have to settle for the next best thing, going after the man who stopped Metal Gears twice. And settled is an understatement: he's looking forward to it. I told him Solid possesses all the superior genes."

"You did what? You sonuvabitch-!"

"But in reality, Solid has all the scraps and leftovers - inferior genome coding. I actually felt proud of what he did in spite of those handicaps. Nothing is genetically preordained after all."

"And he's walking into another trap. Damn you, damn the president and damn the Patriots!"

"What are you gonna do, Miller!? Are you gonna try to shout the whole thing to the world? I don't think anyone's gonna hear this far out in your neck of the woods. Even if you do, would they believe you-"

"I'll do what I should have done an hour ago!" Miller growled angrily, rising up again and pulled out the gun.

Ocelot dove sideways like a ballet dancer, dodging the two shots fired. Miller turned around. Ocelot rolled to the floor, jumped back up and pounced on Miller, backhanding him, grabbing the gun, unloading it and removing the slide. Miller retaliated it by whacking the butt of his crutch against his stomach in one savage thrust. They both fell on the floor, Ocelot out of breath and Miller panting hard. The husky growled at Ocelot, angry for attacking Miller. Miller whistled it to calm down.

"Jesus... I'm getting too old for this shit," Miller muttered.

"You and me both, Miller..." Ocelot agreed. "You and me both..."

"You're still fit for an old man," the hell master noted.

"And not bad for a retired drill master," Ocelot conceded. "You're pretty good. At least I know where Snake got his skills from."

Miller put his hand on his face. "Jesus. What have we done?"

"If we wanna continue this conversation, I suggest keep on the alcohol," Ocelot suggested.

Miller nodded. "You're right. And I'm still serving it, agreed?"

"Agreed?" They picked themselves up. Ocelot tried to help Miller but he declined and got on his own with his crutch. Ocelot was about to ask about picking up the .45 but Miller said to let it go for the moment. They got back on their seats.

After the drinks were served they went back to business. Miller opened by noting about what just happened. "I've got two hole on my wall now. Fortunately, the .45 ACP has lousy penetration on thick logs so I don't have to worry about snow getting in but it won't do any good when someone comes over to visit." He took a gulp.

"Sorry about the wall. Just move some furniture in front of it. It'll be fine." Ocelot downed his drink

"Two holes in the wall is not something to lose sleep over. How the hell is Washington gonna dress up the upcoming mess?"

"You mean the Patriots," Ocelot corrected. "Solidus would like things messy if he wants to break free from his masters."

"Who are they?" Even now his stomach coiled, fearing where his question will take him.

* * *

A/N: If you noticed the name I gave to ArmsTech's dummy corp, it's a reference to the 1985 British TV series, _Edge of Darkness_. If _Metal Gear Solid_ criticizes the proliferation of nuclear weapons, _Edge of Darkness_ is a critique of the nuclear industry, especially in its aura of secrecy and lack of accountability. Like the games they were strongly influence by the politics during the time of its making, in this case, Thatcherite Britain, and combined real-world concerns with mythic and mystical elements like the GAIA hypothesis. And like Metal Gear, it has elements of a techno-thriller. It even has a character that shares a first name with Otacon's step-sister: Emma Craven. Today, both are highly-regarded by critics and are influential in their respective mediums. Because of their nuclear concerns, _Metal Gear_ and _Edge of Darkness_ are most certainly a match made in heaven.

I put two and two together with the Soviet bionics engineer and Drago Pettrovich Madnar because to me, the former looked like a much younger version of the scientist featured in the first game. Such a man like him can easily take over Huey's research and expand upon it. In the game, his daughter was named Ellen but I went for one of its derivations in Russian, Yelena as it would fit much better.

I dropped a minor reference to the movie _Wolf of Wall Street_ by Martin Scorsese, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, set during the stock-market craze that was all the rage during the 80s. This harkens back to another movie from that era tackling the same subject matter, _Wall Street_ by Oliver Stone and starring Michael Douglas and father-and-son team Martin and Charlie Sheen. Ocelot made a throwaway reference to that iconic movie that criticized the cavalier and cutthroat of investment marketing and materialistic ethos of the 80s, yet Gekko (Douglas) declaration of "greed is good" inspired many young stockbrokers to adopt his cavalier, all-or-nothing approach to business. Our favorite cowboy master-spy said that "the greed sector have found their new life's work" after stopping Sahelanthropus.

In _Dad's Army_ , Sgt. Arthur Wilson is the uncle to one of soldiers in the platoon, Private Pike, when in reality he's the actual father, borne of an affair with Mrs. Pike, just like how Meryl was actually Campbell's daughter.

Thanks for reading and don't forget to drop a review. Will continue.


	3. Shape of Things To Come

A/N: This is the biggest and most-spoilerific chapter yet. It delves into key elements that would become the heart of the series' lore. Much of it would be left vague as the events of Shadow Moses were yet to unfold, the events in _Sons of Liberty_ and _Guns of the Patriots_ were still faraway.

 **Disclaimer** : Metal Gear is owned by Konami but still belongs to Kojima in my mind. Everything else here belongs to their respective owners.

* * *

"These new Patriots are Zero's successors, or put aptly, usurpers. Thanks to Skull Face the Patriots assumed control of Cipher, now there's only them. Now Solidus had known everything there is to be known about Big Boss, the Philosophers, the Les Enfant Terrible, courtesy of his upbringing. He is disturbed by the fact that his life was charted by someone else, someone who calls the shots behind the scenes. And that he was groomed to be a figurehead of the greatest standing. That had shaken and enraged Solidus to the core. After having contacted me and explaining everything to him, he commissioned me to find everything I need to know about the Patriots and how to engineer the perfect heist, his one ticket to freedom. I'm empowered to do everything there is to complete my mission in Shadow Moses." Ocelot slurped his drink.

 _Elegia_ began playing, bringing the room into a contemplative mood. Kaz finished his drink. "So besides orchestrating yet another Metal Gear crisis what else are you doing on Solidus' behalf?"

"My job is to observe REX in action and retrieve its blueprints and experimental test data. If the weapon test is successful Solidus will have his deterrent against them. And he was a very small time window in which to work with so he needs it fast before they learn about our little side-scheme."

"Why does Solidus loathe and fear the Patriots so much?"

"The current Patriots are not any cabal of individuals. They are Artificial Intelligences borne out of Strangelove's programs. Zero commissioned Strangelove to create four Artificial Intelligence, codenamed after the presidents on Mt. Rushmore with a fifth AI, code name John Doe to act in a supervisory role. With Strangelove's death Sigint took control of the programming. To say that's a big mistake is an understatement: they are not content with high-level data processing anymore, the damned things are now in-charge of everything now. It was they who orchestrated the Max Headroom broadcast signal intrusion back in 1987. It was genius in itself that not only did they hack into HBO's satellite signal effectively but how they planned it through the perpetrators via sending instructions to its network of contacts. This was the AIs' wake-up call, that they are finally capable of planning and executing anything out of their will and their will alone. They've taken over Cipher."

"Jesus... Just like the AI pods' malfunctions back in Costa Rica." He remembered how Peace Walker's AI pod, modeled on the Boss, went against its programming and chose to drown itself in a lake in the Nicaraguan mountains. He remembered his conversation with Zero. He thought he had come at an agreement with him over the use of the AIs as high-speed clearinghouses for data. Had it really come to this?

"They're now taking humanity's free will from underneath it. Soon nothing will be beyond their reach and it would dictate the course of our entire species in the future unless it must be stopped. The only people it won't affect will be those survivalist fanatics who stock up guns and food for what they believe would the second coming. This system will snuff out our independence and squelch the Boss' will. They already have Big Boss now but me, I'm still free right under their noses. I decided to take a tactic straight out of Vasily Chuikov's combat handbook: hugging the enemy, grabbing them by balls, making it dangerous to destroy you without destroying themselves. And my 'hugging' is to become one of the Patriot's agents, working for Solidus. It was how I was aware that Solidus intends to rebel against the Patriots."

"And I thought they were a thing of movies like _2001: Space Odyssey_ and _The Terminator_. How did you learn of this?"

"I had a little chat with Donald, the keeper of the beast," Ocelot replied darkly. "Turns out he had let it lose and spent a great amount of time trying to reel them back in. But as they say, he was only closing the barn door the hose has bolted. He was the catalyst for their rise."

"He set them free? The AIs?"

Ocelot was silent for a while and Miller was able to read in his face that it wasn't he was choosing what to say to Miller but rather he was thinking deeply, slowly picking through the mists of past memory and dealing with some of the pain it brought. He'd been through that. "After Skull Face took on Mother Base, me and Zero had a deal... We saved Snake. It was the first time we got together and did something since we last met. We agreed to work together to take on Skull Face, having taken half of Cipher with him and the Parasites..." He stared aimlessly as he sift through his memories, trying to go on. "I have to give the devil his due. He helped Big Boss out of the Caribbean and had him airlifted to Cyprus where he can receive treatment and recovery in safety whilst keeping a lid on the whole affair. He also did a repeat of the Man who Never Was, Operation _Mincemeat_."

"Venom Snake..." Miller whispered as his chest received a sudden pain, a sensation crying out for release. Zero ordered this, not Big Boss. He created the Phantom out of the Medic, the man who treated his injuries after the Virtuous Mission. His eyes felt heavy at the sides and had to stifle himself. He remembered now... Zero really did that. "He... saved Snake." Yes, he heard Zero's voice and it sounded like he was distraught. How could he forget? "He led me to you... and you brought me the Phantom." Even at the cost of what was then effectively signing his own death warrant.

"That's right... Zero saved Snake so he can fight another day." Ocelot paused, drawing breath as he collected himself to continue on. "The remaining half of Cipher was put under the control of Sigint. His task was to find look for Skull Face and attempt to contain him, at least keep him away from Snake by arms length until he wakes up. Now the AIs were used exactly that, for high-speed data processing. It allowed Cipher to carry out their operations from remote control. However Donald Anderson lacked Snake's tactical and operational acumen and Zero's gift for secrecy and strategic thinking, he was too technical. Skull Face was always two or three steps ahead of him.

"Then he made a decision in 1983. Without the good doctor's work on analyzing emotions to mimic our brains to assist him he resorted to writing and then installing a program to give them independent thinking and giving them broad instructions. He sicced them after Skull Face and had effectively doomed the world from that day onward."

"Good grief," Miller said, somewhat downcast. "That was all it took: desperation over caution, deciding utility over uncertainty."

"I made him pay dearly for his part in the the greatest debacle of human history." Ocelot's voice and eyes were chilly, hard, and piercing as the winter outside. "Just like I helped Gray Fox get his vengeance on Para-Medic."

"You did?"

"Every time I look at Gray Fox being poked and prodded..." He breathed slowly to control himself. "All I could think was Big Boss and all the horrible things done to him by Zero."

Yes, in love with the legend indeed, Miller thought. However, whatever sympathy there in his situation disappeared when he used Venom as a stand in like Zero suggested. It was Zero who turned the Medic into a living incarnation of Captain William Martin, Royal Marines to fool Skull Face and his Cipher. Such a thing was unforgivable. With that he has common ground with Ocelot.

"Because of what I learned from him, I got a little carried away. I was supposed to learn of the activation codes for Metal Gear and had to do it by hand since Anderson has learned the art of mental blanking, which effectively protected him from Mantis."

"Andersen too banged up, forcing you to accelerate your timeline?" asked Miller.

"No, he's dead," he said coldly. "I can't just let the cat out of the bag yet so I had Decoy Octopus, our disguise expert, impersonate him."

Miller was about asked about how he would do this but he declined. Big Boss knew what he was doing when he built up FOXHOUND. He knew talent when he sees it and extraordinary talent he used them to a max - and giving the holder of such talent purpose and self-worth he wouldn't find anywhere else. "So about these AIs. How did Solidus found out?"

"It goes all the way back to his upbringing. You see, going by the _Boys from Brazil_ methodology, the Sons were raised under different conditions to see how they turned out. Liquid, or Eli, was raised to be Cipher's soldier, working-class East End family, though he learned of his origins too soon. David was raised in an ordinary middle-class family: house, car, white picket fence, and friendly neighbors, the whole nine yards. Solidus was raised in a prominent WASP family."

"White Anglo-Saxon Protestants, " Miller noted. "America's upper class, gentry bordering on aristocracy."

Ocelot nodded. "The WASP family in particular used to be part of the network of the Philosophers."

"Snake told me about them. After the end of the First World War a secret meeting was convened among a group of powerful and influential individuals from Russia, China, and the United States at the end of the First World War called the Wiseman's Committee. They were men disillusioned with the outcome of the Treaty of Versailles and the troubled birth of the League of Nations. They sought a lasting peace for a united world. They tried do it behind the scenes, trying their best to influence the times. They created the Philosophers. Snake told me about them, how I learned of Zero in the first place. I also learned that the Japanese government learned of them back in the 1920's, having broken a spy ring in Korea. They were angered that it was them who helped the Taisho democracy and stalled their designs in Siberia and China. Pretty pissed about it."

"Yeah, having some international secret society opposing their goals sent the cultured warlords of the rising sun and their cliques into a hissy fit," Ocelot agreed. "How did the Japanese know about them?" He was astounded that Japan has learned of their existence.

"Back in '84, when we were searching for Skull Face and the Vocal Cord Parasites, we learned of some files guarded in a mansion in the outskirts of Kyoto. I had sent a team to break into it and they found a collection of old files from various branches of the government, from the Imperial Army and Navy, from the foreign ministry, and ultranationalist associations. They speak of a conspiracy against their designs in China. Our analysis concluded it intensified their activities in Asia and elsewhere."

"Interesting, I should've known of that," Ocelot quipped wryly as though it eluded him. It was a show. He knew of them, by his own means of course.

"It belonged to an outfit called 'Tokyo', another typical old-boys network, not satisfied with regional power/vassal status conferred to Japan after the war. From what I learned they did a few dealings with the United States during the early days of the Cold War. They were wiped out back in 1983. All of its top brass disappeared and their network was gutted like a fish. It had to be Skull Face's work, his signature was everywhere."

"Good ol' Skull Face never disappoints in the savagery," Ocelot agreed. "Wanna get back to Solidus?"

"Yeah, and the Philosophers." Miller nodded as he poured glasses again. "The 'Tokyo' connection can wait."

"They could have a handle on the rest of the world if it wasn't for the fact that the Wisemen's Comittee having disagreements over each other. The Chinese faction consisted of nationalists and people who still remembered the Boxer Rebellion's horrors and are suspicious of their Russian and American counterparts. The Russians were divided just like after their civil war, into several camps, some who believed that communism is the answer to the world's problems, the others believing in the anarchist theory of decentralized society, and more and the only thing holding them together is their distaste for the monarchist, reactionary, and conservative factions of the White Russian movement abroad. The American part held a lot of clout, wanting to implement Woodrow Wilson's vision of international peace and sought to break the European powers, with their colonial empires, which they argued over how best to execute it. These disagreements over goals and priorities kept the Philosophers from attaining their goal but it was all done within bounds of civility until the Depression hit and the death of the last founding member died, when the rivalries become more vicious and heated, fanning the flames of war in the 1930s.

"World War II broke out and they struggled to contain the conflagration started by their infighting, brinkmanship, myopia, and indecision, pulling their weakened selves together to defeat the Axis powers. It's a miracle the Russians survived Stalin's repression and the Chinese Philosophers barely held on in spite of Japanese harassment, aided and abetted by the Americans, who turned back when the Japanese clearly disliked playing second fiddle." That earned him an odd look from Miller. "Then they returned to being at each other's throats, the Cold War ensued as a result. They played the Boss, they played Jack-, I mean Snake. He learns the truth and walks away disgusted. And they took the Boss's objective - the other half of the Boss's objective, the Philosopher's Legacy."

"What the hell is that?" Miller questioned as he got another round ready.

"A slush fund established by the Philosophers in order to finance the war. One hundred billion dollars earmarked for research and development, spawning technology such as rocketry, telecommunications, and computers. It was supposed to be divided after the conflict ended but these funds were stolen and were then divided and hidden in secret bank accounts in Switzerland, Hong Kong, Australia and others untouched by the war or were least affected. It was enough to fight World War 2 five times over and by 1964 was worth infinitely more at inflation rates. It also contained the the membership list of the Philosophers. Col. Volgin inherited it from his father Boris, who was in charge of their money-laundering activities and absconded with it and used it developing the Shagohod. The Chinese through Eva tried to steal it but she got a fake, courtesy of me."

"Jesus, so much money to plunge the world economy into chaos? Theoretically unlimited funds for the holder..." Miller remembered the rumors of Nazi gold and of Yamashita's treasure being used to finance CIA operations. Much of them urban legends but the search for the Legacy may have triggered those.

"With their half of the Philosopher's legacy, The CIA used it to expand operations, making the Pentagon suspicious as Vietnam and their commitments overseas was draining the Treasury. Zero, while happy about the funding felt it was being misdirected at reviving the Philosophers. Gene, through unknown means managed to gain the other Philosopher's Legacy in spite of the best efforts by the Pentagon's mole in the CIA, Cunningham, to retrieve it. Being tricked into thinking a nuclear attack on Langley was imminent, the CIA director and his cronies tried to make their way to the bunker where I intercepted him, killed the bastard, and took their half. With both in hand the rest, as you know, is history. The Russian and Chinese factions had withered on the vine during the intervening years - before the death blow administered by Skull Face, who wanted to make sure no one strong enough to oppose him will make in-roads with Zero."

"And what's left the Philosophers, the new Patriots - computers - took control as well."

"Indeed. The Philosophers once had a network of schools, training centers for their operatives. Charm schools. The Boss was a graduate. Solidus was molded to become the perfect leader. He was balanced, unlike Solid and Liquid, a perfect clone - his genome contained a balance of dominant and recessive genes. It was something he accepted gladly and took pride on after he was intimated with that fact early in life. Of course genes alone would not make a Big Boss. It was to be taught.

"Solidus's youth was one that could be described to create the American golden boy: Ivy League education, Boy Scouts, meeting powerful people as he tagged along his adoptive parents, leadership roles. He was precocious youth, consuming books over a wide variety of topics and getting perfect As as a result. Privileged but by no means sheltered. They wanted him to experience America in all its entirety, at least as much as they could muster for him, whether it was visiting a Native American reservation or the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, participating in reenactments of historical events, charity work at inner-city Atlanta, or passing out dead drops to low-level contacts in downtown Chicago- and to test him, to see if he was worthy of being their puppet. So early on he was intimated about the their secrets at an early age. One of his crowning achievements in high school was getting several inner-city gangs, people who wouldn't like the proverbial white bread, to a truce and he used them to create a network to gather intelligence for his adoptive father's election campaign. Then in 1989 everything changed. He was shipped out with the CIA to Liberia, at the age of 17."

"Liberia..." Kaz whispered. "Civil war. Samuel Doe's coup put him as the first indigenous leader of Liberia after having been long ruled by descendants of freed slaves."

Ocelot added to that, "Tensions between the Americo-Liberians and the indigenous Liberians existed because of discrimination and exploitation of the latter by the former. Samuel Doe did what every tinpot dictator does after attaining power by stamping out opposition, usually in a bloody way. He naturally produced enemies, chief among them was Charles Taylor. Arrested for embezzling government funds and belonging to a tribe that planned to depose Doe, Taylor escaped a Massachusetts jail while awaiting extradition due to the Patriots. He would then plunge his country into two bloody fratricidal conflicts in a row and his name would be become synonymous with the carnage and horror throughout embattled West Africa."

"What was Solidus doing in Liberia? Was he sent to support Taylor or any of the factions?"

"Not really. He was sent there to test his skills, chief of which are his ability to accomplish whatever objectives laid down on him, his leadership skills, his resourcefulness, how he can cope under the pressure of extensive low-intensity combat. The chaos in Liberia was perfect: an intensive war that's under the radar of many news agency around the world, with just enough critical resources to get greedy parties interested. The horror of the Rwanda massacre has both diverted and numbed the rest of the world of what's going on in that country."

"What a total hellhole... Ethnic conflict, genocide, horrors from an older age resurfacing...," Reports indicated that cannibalism was practiced by the different factions as psychological warfare. It was enough to make Hitler's SS look like plain street thugs, yet it made something in common with old Imperial Japan's soldiers engaging in such orgies of depravity. _And to think we always styled ourselves as civilized_ , he thought bitterly.

"Solidus passed his test with flying colors but at the beginning of the conflict, something shaken him: he was getting old, literally."

"Literally? Does that mean something went wrong with his genetic structure?"

"Yes. Literally. As a child though, he was surprised by his own intellect, his quick-learning ability and he was often years ahead of his peers in thought and manner, he was once nicknamed Professor, Coach during PE, or back when he was in Lyman Ward Military Academy, Camp Hill, Alabama, Sarge." He chuckled at that. "He thought being the legendary soldier's clone gave him a headstart. But the Patriots tampered his genome, making him age faster."

"I bet it pissed him off a lot. Realizing he was being set up since his birth."

"It was a start, though he did his job well like the a good soldier. And that consumed him as he left in 1997 and the Patriots fast-tracked him afterwards, using him to push their agenda of enslaving America under their 'benevolent guidance.'"

"It's the same sort of arrogance that pushed Japan into conflict throughout the early half of the 20th century."

"Yeah, after they've done away with Clinton, they opened his presidency as George Sears with a kamikaze attack on the World Trade Center and the resulting War on Terror. The Patriots then created Solidus's domestic and foreign policy: for the military there was an intense focus on developing next-generation weaponry and innovative doctrine, through him they pushed for improving the quality of education nationwide and increased support for the information technology sector and the electronics industry. Under him the Human Genome Project opened the door for genetic engineering on humans and he was urged him to take a stand on bioethics while simultaneously breaking his vows performing experiments. By that time he was no longer let into the Patriots' plan but he deduced enough of the implications, however hazy and incomplete the big picture was, that he was enraged and horrified by what their doing and what it means to him: he was a throwaway tool, a rubber stamp for his masters, nothing of his own making to live his mark on history.

"And the Patriots sent me, I told him about their nature and he took me into his confidence, commissioned me to create a perfect score that will make him a hero he always desired, a liberator who would free the nation of their grip, just like the Found Fathers back in 1776. Knowing that he's a clone without any means to sire heirs he will pursue his goals even more."

"So Sears is no older than Solid Snake but why did the Patriots caused him to age faster?"

"It's a failsafe," Ocelot answered. "An insurance policy to ensure the clones do not become trouble as they grow older, prudent it seems that all the 'Sons' inherited Big Boss ability to sift through bullshit for the truth and his rebellious streak."

Miller gasped as he let the new facts settle in. "Snake..." It was worse than he thought. Yes, it was true. They can find the truth for themselves and then go against the powers-that-be. Eli's resentment towards authority, David's unorthodoxy, which earmarked him for FOXHOUND, and now Solidus's is openly seeking rebellion. But the worse fact is that Snake was doomed to die early on from the very start, a disposable toy soldier for these... computers - once they're finished with him. And Venom too. He inherited that streak through the false memories implanted in him, albeit honed by... "Damn!"

The room fell silent saved for the howling winds beating against the window and the mournful melodies of _Elegia_. The song seemed to heighten the anguish in his heart at Snake's impending forced mission, following the script of five damned computers buried somewhere in the Pentagon. "If Sears is so dead-set in wiping those AIs, why not he just send FOXHOUND to search and destroy those things in the Pentagon?"

"Any open move on his part would alert the Patriots and force them underground, they'll only get stronger from there," Ocelot pointed out. "You wanna speed up their timetable?"

Kaz paused as he looked into his drink. Back in Costa Rica he had witnessed autonomous weapons in action that would have handled entire armies effectively except Big Boss. Coldman believed they were the wave of the future, using them to demonstrate human fallibility in decision-making by transmitting false attack data to get other parties to launch it at but it went against its programming, modeled on the Boss, to drown itself than to destroy the world. They were the ones who fully validated the AI, convinced in Sigint's suggestion of using them for high-level data processing. They allowed Strangelove to continue her work briefly for a while. Then it was back to DARPA - back to Cipher. "No. It was our fault. We helped this happen."

"And because of this we have to end it," Ocelot answered. "One way or the other."

"Is there any other way?" Miller asked loudly.

Ocelot shook his head gravely in reply. "I wish it were did simple too. Just find the damned things, shorting them out forever by just taking a piss on the data banks but... they've accumulated so much power that there's no way they'll let anyone get close to them to do that."

"They're a virus thinking itself a cure for humanity." There was disgust in his voice. "How can we ever hope to destroy an enemy like that?"

"Not directly. They have a weakness, everything's got one, I assure you. I haven't found one yet and they're not gonna give it to me. I will force their hand somehow, getting them expose that weakness. This is gonna be like playing chess and poker at the same time."

Miller looked up at him. "You think this is a game?" The tone was offended and threatening.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Really, we are creatures of action, Miller. We do like a challenge. What we call work is just play, Miller, activity. Cultures around the world encourage different kinds of interaction within a particular social framework. Humanity progresses because of these dynamics and the AIS are playing a game with a set of rules they devised. They're not gonna make it easy on us, why should we make it easy for them anymore than it is?"

"So what's your idea to defeat them?"

"At the moment the Patriots are rewriting everything. No doubt they are rigging the rules of any game against them so they come out on top. But for all their vaunted intelligence they overlook one crucial factor: chaos theory, unpredictability. Humanity, the wild card they seek to control, may well lead to their downfall. Weaknesses in their system may appear to the keen-minded and those like me will seek an opportunity to exploit. They're aware of that so they must constantly restructure themselves to cover those but every time they do they expose yet another set, and around and around the wheel turns. The theory is that the AIs cannot keep up but for how long? Which is why I need to act now. They still think I'm one of their own. Good. Keeping up a masquerade and keeping my enemies guessing - in the wrong direction - is what I do best."

"That sounds complicated." Miller was often at awe at how people with aptitudes in espionage like Ocelot and Zero can come up with such complex, convoluted strategies and yet make them work - most of the time. "How the hell do you intend to keep that up?"

"For as long as it takes." He smiled devilishly. "And the Sons will be stars of it all. You, I, and the Patriots have molded them into the most efficient soldiers the world has ever seen. With Solid Snake 'killing' his 'father' back in the former Tselinoyarsk, it won't be long before he faces the others. The Patriots, like vultures, will watch in earnest. They will be scheming behind the scenes, pitting one against the other, and the survivor is the loser, whom they would discard and pick as needed until they're done with him."

"It makes sense now..." His voice trembled slightly. "What we had talked about... The age of Big Boss's sons... how they're fated to face each other... and there 'father.' They still want their champion, Big Boss."

Ocelot drank his whiskey. "The Patriots knew that an icon will always be needed. Big Boss is that icon. Soldiers all over the world will look up to him and through him they control them. I'm not sure whether it was calculated ploy or vestigial thinking on their part from the original programming but it's in their interest that they keep him alive."

"Yeah, keep the legend alive," he added bitterly.

"No, Miller, like literally alive. He's in a coma."

"Coma!?" But he was dead, if he was used for genetic enhancements he would just be a frozen popsicle.

"Somehow they're keeping asleep, under their control. I intend to free him and when he does the Patriots will shit their pants."

"Like they ever will let you," the hell master said dryly. "He'll be probably be guarded like Fort Knox." Then a thought hit him. "What's their interest in genetics anyway besides creating new Big Bosses? Are they trying to engineer mankind too?" It was a horrifying notion: AIs recreating humanity from his basic, most fundamental building foundations: his genes. They'll be just like livestock, cattle. A herd of beings custom-designed from birth for a specific purpose, destiny charted by the AIs.

"Under them their research into genetics and through the parasites they created two breakthroughs: nanotechnology and a virus created to target specific genes."

"What are those?" Miller asked, mystified - and horrified - by these exotic concepts.

"Nanotechnology is a concept about machines ranging in size from one micrometer (one-thousandth of a millimeter) to one nanometer (one-millionth of a millimeter) using MEMS (Micro Electro Mechanical Systems) technology. They can be inserted into the human body via injection into the bloodstream. Among the potential application for nanomachines is medical, performing functions such as monitoring the body's physiology, augmenting bodily functions and repairing tissue damage. They're also the wave of the future in IT, allowing a person access with the information stored in his or her body's nanomachine network. That application is currently in the conception stage and progress was slowly but surely showing some promise."

"Look's like I could use some," Miller quipped wryly. "Better to chug my alcohol without a hangover and check my blood pressure."

"That's gonna be their main selling point when they come out soon," the cowboy agreed. "It'll be like taking an RFID chip, monitoring your body. Take one and call me in the morning."

"Yeah, the better for the Patriots to keep track of your ass." He chuckled. "Oh, sonovabitch. These bastards are taking our freedom from us and no one's even noticing." The chuckle became a laugh. "And to think we thought back then that the vocal cord parasites were the greatest threat to mankind. And now parasite research broke ground for little robots that move inside your body, fixing it up while transmitting a record of your body's activities to the damned supercomputers in the Pentagon's basement."

Ocelot started to laugh as well. "And all because Sigint tried to squash a bug with a steam hammer." They were feeling their alcohol now, already warming them from the inside. "Now the Patriots can keep track of everyone around the world." The laughter stopped. "Makes you nostalgic for the good old days when it was fighting Cipher and going around the world doing missions-for-hire was all that mattered."

Miller's mirth disappeared too. "Yeah. It does." Especially with Venom at his side. He was the one true Boss. "Fighting the good fight."

"Yeah. And to top it all off, we got a virus you can customize to target your enemies."

"Spin-off of the parasite research. Can't they just let the machines do the killing?"

"They would if they could but it would be a few years before nanomachines reach that stage of advancement. Besides, it won't look good on the medical community and insurance companies when the little buggers are suspected of killing patients."

"A very convenient means of disposing an enemy of the Patriots quietly. Look's like a nightmarish police state in the making."

Ocelot looked out the window. Then he looked on the floor to see the husky asleep. _Boring conversation, ain't it, boy?_ "You know the Japanese were undertaking their parasite research? They laid the foundations that made it possible after the war."

"Yeah, I remember Unit 731, who were responsible for the Imperial Army's research into biological weaponry, horrible atrocities were committed on test subjects. Most of its members got off scot-free from the Tokyo War Tribunals in exchange for working with the Americans."

"And they were invaluable for getting it running. No doubt some those fed information back to their masters to continue their own research, a parasite that attacks the brain, causing the victim to suffer violent psychotic outbreaks and hallucinations. It usually ends in scratching out the throat in formication or a heart attack."

Miller blanched at the description. "That's a lousy and downright gruesome way to go."

"The Alphabet Project, they called it, after the old acronym for NBC, with 'Atomic' standing in for 'Nuclear' back then." Ocelot then whispered, "'Tokyo'. They were working closely with Dr. Clark. The head of the Alphabet Project, a Major Miyo Takano, loaned a research assistant whose womb would be the source of the eggs used in Les Enfant Terrible program."

The song was drawing to a crescendo. "'I'm surprised the Americans had not learned of them or had they looked the other way?"

Then began playing Joan Baez's _Here's to You_.

"Washington never knew it was being played, perhaps because it was better to look the other way indeed." Laying your head in the sand was how you get bit in the ass first time. "This old-boys network, 'Tokyo', I believe was responsible for stonewalling you in your investigations back when you were in the Self-Defense Force."

"That makes sense, especially when I was investigating really sensitive stuff like an army truck 'accidentally' running over a nuclear physicist from Tokyo University or supply stores unaccounted for in the army paybooks. What happened to them?"

"Gone. Wiped out like completely by Skull Face. To this day no one else knows how it happened or why. Or would not dare hazard a guess. They disappeared after a field test of their pathogen failed completely. It was due to the resistance presented by the inhabitants of the remote Japanese village they tried to wipe out."

"They were going to test it in their own soil?" Miller was surprised that the "old boys" would kill off an entire village just to test a weapon. "What did it have against them?"

"Apparently, they protested against building a dam on their place, which would flood. From what I heard they would be happy to see them go. After that setback, no one ever heard from 'Tokyo' again."

"From the way they operate, I'm just as happy to see them go. I've heard about Major Takano a few times. What happened to her?"

"She's dead." Ocelot readjusted himself for a comfortable sitting position. "Died in the psychiatric home where she was interred after suffering a nervous breakdown from the project's failure. Her neck was broken violently, someone must have snapped it to two-hundred forty degrees, and three staff members killed via headshot. Autopsy recovered three .44-40 slugs and shell casings."

"That's Skull Face, alright, tying up loose ends himself." He nodded. "Typical. She would have been put to death quietly or allowed to rot for the rest of her life if it was 'Tokyo.'"

"She was the lucky one, her death marking the closing of a chapter in Japanese history unknown even to this day. A sad, miserable ending for a bunch of sorry amateurs playing at conspiracy, a Napoleonic attempt at reclaiming greatness and getting some revenge." Ocelot's face creased into a frown. "Really puts the _boys_ in _old boys' network_ : a bunch of overgrown kids who think they can challenge the world, bend it to their will, without regard to the difficulties or consequences, or the fact it might come get them. Not that it stopped Clark and Sigint from their own work."

"So they continued Cipher's biological weapons research, specifically this virus that can be custom-made to kill an individual just by homing on his genes."

"Oh yeah." Ocelot was brought on track by Miller's reminder of the fact. "ATGC, the company responsible for Les Enfant Terrible and having ties to DARPA, was continuing their bio-weapons research for a virus that targets specific genes but it all reached a dead end. That was until in 2003 a Dr. Naomi Hunter joined the team. She was the orphaned Indian girl Gray Fox adopted."

"What!?" For some reason Miller was heartened to know that someone very dear to Gray Fox survived. "What sort of involvement does she have with ATGC?"

"She studied genetics and earned a doctorate in genetics, specializing in nanotechnology-based gene therapy. Her credentials were good enough though the name Naomi Hunter isn't her real name, she obtained it from another Dr. Naomi Hunter, who disappeared in the Middle East a few years back. As a matter of fact, she never gave her real name, either to her adoptive brother Frank or to anyone."

"Trauma of battle?" Miller asked.

"Best bet. Either it was so intense that she forget who her name was, not uncommon to developing minds exposed to intense traumatic experiences, or she wouldn't give her name, probably still gripped with fear over Frank's actions. For that matter Frank didn't asked, probably to shield himself from further pain from his guilt of killing her parents."

"Yeah, he's been through hell and the last thing he wants is to push away the one thing he cared about in the entire world."

"And she's probably shocked to learn about what Clark did to Fox, experimenting gene therapy techniques that would become the standard used on the Genome Soldiers. She helped him escape after he finished Clark off, Fox was missing ever since."

"Wait, I thought he was part of your lineup at Shadow Moses."

"I only said he was saved from Zanzibar Land and made property of FOXHOUND, not that he joined them. In any case, after Clark's untimely death, Hunter was made head of FOXHOUND's medical staff and genetics expert, where she created her masterpiece: FOXDIE, the virus for all your assassination needs."

"FOXDIE?"

"She named it after Fox, after Frank. This virus works by being encoded with the DNA of its target and deployed in aerosol. Only the target is taken down, according to the test files, it causes a hear attack via means that I don't have time to read over. Suffice to say the Pentagon was constantly refining the bugger into its most effective and precise form."

"I had to assume that the Patriots can do away with FOXHOUND quietly with it," Miller observed. "If the virus can target its members' genetic codes, they can recover Metal Gear REX and the nukes quietly. Except you of course."

Ocelot grinned in wry agreement. "Naturally. Skynet's doesn't want to kill off its boots-on-the-ground."

"As long as you keep dancing to their tune while you figure out the steps." The hell master yawned. It was getting to be a long morning.

"Another, very novel idea with FOXDIE that a person can be injected with it and act as a vector, unaffected by the virus while the bug in him goes after its targets."

"Then that means..." Miller was seized with dread as the implications flashed and danced in his mind. "Snake!"

"Snake will be the unwitting triggerman. It's only natural that the whole thing will be deniable, that not even the man who brought down both the Bosses will know what's going on. No lose ends."

"And would that include Snake?" It was an accusation.

"I hope it won't come to that," Ocelot replied.

"So you can use him again?"

"Not really. The AIs want their Big Boss but what they have in mind would make Snake irrelevant to the equation. Why need one Boss when you can have an army of them? Not just genetics either. No longer would it be through the clumsy and costly method of shuffling a Snake from one crisis to another.

"Force XXI. The Virtual Reality training simulator program. It was conceived as a means of producing quality soldiers while cutting costs. Well, it's basically that but with the goal having their own army of Snakes."

"And I supposed it will supplement the genetics augmentation by grooming soldiers into their mold."

"Exactly. The Patriots may have hold a lot of power and are currently consolidating their grip on the world but they anticipated the resulting backlash to their control in whatever format, whether its right-wing ultranationalists or environmental terrorists and most likely, the likes of FOXHOUND. They will need enforcers and Big Boss was the benchmark for what they have in mind: a cunning and resilient operator who is able to think on his feet, carrying out the mission in spite of overwhelming odds and come back alive. Training scenarios can include revisiting historical battles and missions like D-Day, Stalingrad, Hue City, or Fallujah or recreations of Naked Snake's missions, or even outlandish ones like taking on King King or Godzilla, the possibilities are theoretically endless."

"And they can mass-produce thousands of Snake out a production line." The hell-master's tone was blank, yet it said volumes. Armies filled with ranks of Big Bosses doing the Patriots' dirty work. There's nothing in the world that can stop them. With them no one can threaten the Patriots' absolute control of the world.

"Already candidates are being trained with it at Fort Polk, Louisiana. Hell, I believe that after Shadow Moses is dealt with, genetic augmentation will be invalidated as a crock. Who needs Big Boss's DNA when you can have his skills and mindset?"

 _Here's to You_ ended, giving way for Hako Yamasaki's _Wandering_.

"Like what you did to Venom?"

Miller's statement was a jab on the heart for Ocelot. The master spy looked down on his empty glass. "I supposed it was... I gave them the model which I used to create Venom Snake. My price of admission so to speak. They know about me very well and won't take any chances and for my part, I needed a way to get them to trust me, force their hand a bit to see what I'm going up against."

"And what do you see?"

"The greatest threat to mankind ever faced, knocking our species off the pedestal and making itself king." He smiled with joy. "And my greatest mission, handed to me by Big Boss himself. The AIs are evolving in their thinking at a frightening rate, surpassing beyond a mere Turing test, and know a threat to them when they see it but me? I enjoy a challenge. I thrive in the swirling tempest of humanity's shifting political games. And I am living the greatest lie ever-known, a spy who serves different players while simultaneously working against them and I am their high priest of their ideology. I am the virus in their system, the unknown quantity, the wooden horse gifted to Troy. No question of the difficulty involved and so as the stakes, subtly undermining them would be a bitch but the ultimate triumph would be sweet.

"And when they came crashing down hard on their bloated, rotting weight, the world will be free again. Soldiers will no longer be shackled to corpse of nation-states and their political agendas once they see Big Boss alive, well, and free. War will no longer be a continuation of politics by other means, it will be a political force on its own right. About time the nabobs and fat cats see and despair as they're out of the game they so enjoy playing without consequence to their cloistered selves. The cycles of petty tit-for-tats will slow down as we control the premium of war. Outer Heaven, a new age will dawn."

Ocelot has not given up Big Boss's dream. There's no use of getting him to do otherwise. Both of them had been after that unicorn since they split back in the 70s. Yet... "Venom had a dream to," Miller finally said after the silence. "Do you remember what it was?"

The mention of Venom's own dream put Ocelot in silence, respectful, heartfelt silence. "Yeah... I do."

"Yes, even if he was under the illusion that he was Big Boss, what he said was his own." He can recall the confession like yesterday, back when he said it facing the setting sun after they retrieved a nuke stolen by a terrorist organization. "To this day I cherished it: 'I haven't forgotten what you told me, Boss. We have no tomorrow: but there's still hope for the future. In our struggle to survive the present, we push the future farther away. Will I see it in my lifetime? Probably not. Which means there's no time to waste. Someday the world will no longer need us: no need for the gun, or the hand to pull the trigger. I have to drag out the demon inside me, build a better future. That's what I— what we will leave as our legacy. Another mission, right Boss?'"

Miller struggled to control himself as his face contorted in emotion. "And he told me why he said it: a few days after making landfall in Pakistan and making your way to Peshawar, he was watching BBC, on satellite, _Dad's Army_ , the episode _Branded_. One of the characters, Private Godfrey, was revealed to be a conscientious objector during the First World War. He was ostracized by the rest of the platoon after he was denounced by his commanding officer, Captain Manwairing. However, during a first-aid exercise involving rescue from a burning building, Godfrey saved Mainwairing without hesitation after failing to follow through in a smoke-filled hut. He had a stroke but recovered and it was revealed that he volunteered as a stretcher-bearer, winning a Military Medal for saving several men in no-man's land during the Battle of Somme. He was being modest about it." He took a deep breath. "The episode was aired in tribute to Arnold Ridley, Godfrey's actor and a First World War veteran. Ridley died a few days before. It's painful because Medic's favorite TV show was _Dad's Army_ and he remembering it meant that there was some semblance of his old self, what's left of it after the shrapnel piece in his head destroyed everything else." He breathed deeply controlling himself. He poured himself another shot.

The master spy was breathing deeply too. Venom - Medic - was like that, a dedicated soldier, a man who would give his life a thousand times over to others, a man who would see his mission through the end. Playing his part in creating Big Boss's meme and building his own name was perhaps the greatest story never told. "We played our roles, alright... All the way to the hilt, shaping the age which brought us. But Venom was perhaps the best of us... How do you repay that to man who gave everything he had and still held the course? How is he to be honored... Anyone who calls him a patsy I'll kill him." He heard Miller pouring whiskey into his glass.

The hell-master held his glass high. "To Venom."

Ocelot slowly and reverently did the same. "To Venom."

"To Paz."

"To your people in the Caribbean."

"To our fallen brothers back in '95 and '99."

"To Code Talker."

"To Quiet."

All the people they lost were remembered that night as they drank their toasts. Quiet, the man who tried to kill Venom, believing him the Legend, who saved their asses and the world back in 1984. Code Talker, who passed away peacefully in 2000. And to all the departed dead.

They've already have enough drinks to feel warm in spite of the cold. Miller breathed deeply. "Big Boss asked us about if we can survive long enough into the Twenty-First Century to see how it turns out and I agreed to go the whole way." He grimaced. "Well, Big Boss is put into cold storage, as you say while I witnessed great upheavals of which we both have our hands in making. I have to say that we managed to create a mess of titanic proportion and it will be the Sons who'll take the mantle from us, continue our broken legacy. I just someone would be their to clean up this disaster we collectively created, set the record straight."

"If it's any consolation you've lived this far enough to see everything. It's a rare privilege to see much history in our lifetime and still see it unfolding before us. Most people can't see the forest for the trees."

Kaz scoffed. "So? You'll kill me too? You said it yourself? One of us will have to kill the other?"

Ocelot nodded in agreement. "The thought occurred to me but... I came here to give a confession, of what once, what is happening, and will happen in the future. I'm old and this could probably be my last time I'll ever have to truly honest with anyone. I came to you, Miller, just for that. My only chance to confide to someone from the old days before the Patriots send me elsewhere to do their bidding."

The bastard was right, he thought. The AIs seem like a dark cloud threatening to engulf the world and Ocelot will be waging a lonely battle against them in the guise of carrying out their orders. "Glad I obliged rather than shooting you."

Ocelot put down his glass. "I also urge you to put everything, all your experiences, your entire life on record. If the Patriots manage to cast their digital net on the world you won't have another chance to pass down your side of the story to the next generation."

"Why? What for?" Miller was puzzled.

"Because it's our duty - yours and mine - tell our part of the story. Well, yours anyway. You deserved it, seeing you've been through hell. Someone needs to see things from your perspective, know what you witnessed, what you thought of it, how it influenced your actions, what it meant to you."

"Or the Patriots will silence me forever."

Ocelot did one of his signature finger gestures. "Good, now you caught on."

"You know, my gut's telling me that Snake's gonna win this. He always had, like in the saying 'third time's the charm.' But if they found out about what Solidus is doing behind their backs they'll be awfully pissed."

"He's aware of that." Ocelot looked rather pensive. "He's got a posse which he set up, Dead Cell, just like FOXHOUND for the US Navy but reporting directly to him. Push comes to shove he'll bring them in with him."

"That's what I'd do when they come knocking for my ass to adorn their fireplace."

Ocelot looked at his watch. "A major storm system's forming over Alaska. A blizzard will be hit Shadow Moses hard for four days. Better get yourself a typewriter, some paper and ink ribbons. It's gonna be a long day telling your life's story. Make copies too. The Patriots will be hard-pressed to find anything not digitized or stored in any place they control. Throw in some magnetic tape too. There's no way anyone can scrub any audio recorded on it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And thanks for the whiskey." He rose slowly. Miller followed. As the hell master led him to the door. "Been nice talking to you, Kaz."

"Likewise." The door was opened and the cowboy went out into the snow, the melodies of _Wandering_ fading behind him. He whistled for his horse, which came out of the woods. He mounted and waved a cowboy, Miller waving back as he closed the door. He urged his stead forward into the predawn darkness, unaware of a figure standing straight in regal fashion among the woods, watching.

* * *

A/N: The Max Headroom broadcast signal intrusion was an interesting piece of hacking history were a television signal was hijacked by perpetrators who remained unknown to this day. It's not without precedent though due similar incidents in 1977 and 1986. However, in the MGS universe, the 1977 incident would not have happened as the AIs had not matured yet wheres in 1986, the perpetrator was identified and arrested.

The concept of _hugging_ would have been something that Ocelot adopted in order to take on the Patriots. Also, the inspiration for Venom acting as a decoy, the Man Who Never Was, was a reference to the sensational, disinformation coup, Operation Mincemeat. It involves a dead body carrying false papers washing up ashore and the Germans grabbing onto it. This paved way for the successful invasion of Sicily by diverting forces to Greece, which the papers identified as an invasion site. Zero, having served in the SAS during WW2, would have been familiar with that ploy, thus he implemented after the events of _Ground Zeroes_ , albeit with a man whose memory and identity was obliterated with a piece of shrapnel.

There's a minor reference to _Death Stranding_ here, where Ocelot explains briefly about playing. Kojima's project aims to examine the concept of the "play" mechanic of videogames under the microscope.

The Japan bits, about "Tokyo" are a reference to the bloody-murder mystery anime _Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni_ and in particular to my crossover, _Pax Nipponica_. The fic explores "Tokyo's" demise in the hands of Skull Face.

We never knew about Naomi Hunter's real name, her Indian name. Exposing a child to trauma at such a young age may cause them to forget their name. A Catholic saint was named Bhakita, as her former name was lost in the trauma of the slave raid that took her away from her home.

Turing test was developed by Alan Turing in 1950, is a test of a machine's ability to exhibit intelligent behavior equivalent to, or indistinguishable from, that of a human. The Patriots AI will most certainly surpass this any frighteningly uncanny ways.

Thinking of Medic/Venom made me think of the _Dad's Army_ episode _Branded_. Scriptwriter Jim Perry called it his most favorite episode and Arnold Ridley was very happy about it. When he read the script he said, "Jimmy, its good to mention _conchies_ as they were called, because they went through hell a lot of them, and a lot of them had high principles. I'm very honoured to play it." Arnold, who served during WW1, really played his character Godfrey with care. The episode made me think of the Paz sidequest. Her name is Spanish for _peace_ , which was a topic discussed at length in _Peace Walker_. Venom was the medic who removed the first bomb from Paz and tried to remove the second, only for her to jump off the chopper to save everyone aboard in _Ground Zeroes_ , filling him with survivor's guilt, made worse by the implanted memories of Big Boss. And then you have Private Godfrey, the platoon's medic, who chose to be a stretcher-bearer to serve his country without taking a life and his selflessness demonstrated in the episode, contained both attributes of Paz (dedication to peace, maybe a front, maybe not) and Medic (loyalty and dedication). This dovetails nicely to Venom's speech in the Nuclear Disarmament Ending of _MGSV: TTP_.

To be concluded.


	4. 4:00 AM

A/N: This is my final chapter, concluding this miniseries. Here is Miller facing his fate at last.

* * *

Miller returned to his house in town during the morning. He took Ocelot's advise at heart, sleeping most of the morning and then after a brief breakfast, visit to friends, began shopping for an old typewriter, ink, ribbons and paper. He started writing as the blizzard began, writing a few initial drafts by hand on yellow paper before organizing his thoughts. Everything he knew, everything he had been told, everything he remembered, he put into writing. Organizing the drafts and giving titles can wait. It was all the more amazing that he did everything with just one hand, a skill acquired from performing Diamond Dogs' paperwork. He was pouring his soul into this, typing, correcting, crumpling, until he reached the desired edit.

He put on Bob Dylan's _Knockin' on Heaven's Door_.

 _My name is Kazuhira Miller, former Japanese Ground Self-Defense Force, right-hand to Big Boss, co-founder of one of the world's first private military contractors..._ He introduced himself that way as he began with his life's story, his military career, his meeting with Big Boss, how he envisioned his concept of privatized warfare. How he had stopped the end of the world twice - and helped handing it to the Patriots in a silver platter.

 _I lost my leg and arm in the Caribbean in 1975. That's only the icing in the cake I have and ate too called my loss and by God how large it was. Only by confessing would I fully explain what I have lost..._ The memories of the burned brightly in his mind, alive and vivid, all his his hopes, his fears, his experience, his sins where brought to the fore as he typed away for a good portion of the afternoon. He never felt so revitalized, so driven. His thoughts seem to put his hands on autopilot.

 _At the time me and Big Boss were like of mind and what we did in Central America was nothing less of extraordinary... It was the best time of my life before everything went to hell_. Old wounds resurfaced, singeing him with pain that was forgotten. Paz... Chico... Venom... The act of recalling at times put a crippling inhibition on him, helped only by alcohol to calm his nerves and rein in the demons emerging from his memories.

 _Then came that day they brought down Mother Base. The comrades we lost as the raging sea took them..._ He sometimes stopped to reorder his mind as each memento was played his head, wiping a tear or drawing breath occasionally. And force himself to go on. He can't to afford to cry right now. There was plenty of time for that when he finished giving himself and his lost comrades their voice.

 _At being bedridden I thought I lost everything... Then that phone call that lead me to him..._ Thinking back to his own intrigues disgust him now, as it was his consorting with Zero that brought Skull Face to their doorstep. Recovering from the hospital left him a wreck, and it was only the beginning for his journey through hell.

 _I met him but I did not know who he really is at the time... Venom..._ After Afghanistan he and Venom pursued their dream and went after Skull Face before he can unleash his plague in the world. They were obsessed, compelled by their pain and vengeance to bring him down. _What a time it was, nothing ever so terrible yet the best time of my life_.

 _Then I learned the truth. That he wasn't the man I thought I served - yet he was greater than him, the legend himself_. His arms trembled as how he recalled the truth with bitter clarity. He was abandoned, Venom used. There was no greater betrayal than this.

 _I vowed vengeance against him. I left Diamond Dogs so I can train another man, one of the Sons... A good man_. He recalled how training Solid Snake helped him coped with the wounds inflamed at Big Boss's presence during his tenure with FOXHOUND. Yet it could not make up for having condemned Venom to die in Africa.

 _The time came. His reckoning has come. I brought Big Boss's vision crashing down on him.._. Yet he remembered who paid the price for his vengeance. David. He tries to find peace in the wilderness like himself.

 _Then a ghost from the past came forth. Telling me that something else was brewing... And my part in it._ He won't on to detail his encounter with Ocelot and what he revealed to him. The terrifying implications of his information was analyzed at length as well as he could manage.

By nightfall he had over four hundred pages worth of drafts ready. Not bad for a day's work. It still needed some fine-tuning but he can keep the drafts as proof of writing. He concluded, _I've made into the 21st century. Big Boss is an ice cube and had yet to see the world today. As for me I've seen the state of the world and how it remains aflame, the culmination of a titanic struggle in the shadows between Big Boss and Zero - and my part in it. I made everything today possible, made it an even worse place than when I joined up with him back in the 70's. I leave to you who read this to judge my actions and it makes of me. I do not ask for forgiveness from you, I only want you to understand, my sins and their consequences, and that hopefully there is time to undo what I did, stop this from reaching its final phase. To any who want to take action against, I pray you make the right choices, the right decisions, and not become the monsters we made ourselves to be and spawn more. The break the cycle of hate and retaliation, create a lasting peace. Call me corny and call me naive but I know that state sublimity can never be achieved, yet it never hurts to try to at least, put down the gun forever. This is my confession of what I have lost and destroyed. It will be my warning so the folly we created will never be repeated. It will be my legacy so you can understand my part in it_.

He folded them and put them away as he prepared a tape recording for his verbal confession.

Turn out vocal narration was harder than print. They were two different things entirely as confessions "on the record" required him to be more intimate with his memories, bare his soul, relive the pain, joy, sins, regrets in no way typing a manuscript can ever muster. Running the gauntlet through memory lane made the memories sharper, clearer, more bitter and every fiber of his being singe with remembrance, the touch of his finger tips of items and people years past, the smells sea salt, gasoline, curry, sweat, and desert, his ears echoing words uttered by everyone around him. His eyes went heavy and the tears roll down slowly. He wiped them and continued on, feeling the weight he carried around all these years digging into his soul.

"And now I made it the 21st century, the dawn of a new age that I helped shaped," he began to wind down his confession. "What I time it was and what excellent warrior I made of Snake. I hope this makes it to you, Snake. I really do. Only then can I rest." He stopped recording and turned off the magnetic recorder.

He began organizing his drafts to _Taiji no Yume_ by Sai Yoshiko. This began a medley of Japanese songs as he made copies of the drafts which he intends to distribute as well letters that come with them, stating they are to be distributed in the event of his death. He placed his magnetic tape recording in his hidden safe while gathering ammo for his .45.

He sat at down to relax and reminisce, strong coffee in hand, gun lap and his faithful husky by his side, ready for anything. He dozed off a bit, then he woke and went to the surveillance set in tucked in a hidden space in his room. He knew he faced death the moment Ocelot strode in but he needed to carry on just a bit more, long enough to complete his mission of sending his confession throughout the world, his own lasting legacy. His vigil, he hoped, last him enough to see tomorrow's dawn. He watched through monitors presenting him the feeds from his CCTV cameras and motion sensors in and out of the house. No way anybody's gonna try to take him out easily. They're gonna have to work for it.

The doors were locked and secured and any attempt to force entry will immediately alert him, giving him time and his dog to escape or at least hold out till the authorities arrive. However, he knew that anything tied with the authorities is bound to involved the Patriots, who'll try to confiscate his damning drafts and tape recording. Fortunately, the sheriff of the town was someone he knew and trust so he'll make sure that the drafts were the first things he recovered from his house in the aftermath of a shootout.

His vigil was tense, lonely, and downright boring. He had to avert his eyes once in a while from the monitors or burns his concentration away looking for something that wasn't there and overlooking what _was_ there.

Coffee and lively music was what kept him awake. The clock struck 4 in the morning and _4:00 AM_ began playing.

His microphones picked up some strange audio downstairs. His cameras were set to automatically turn to the source of the noise. It was coming from the kitchen. He switched to infrared to see who was hiding behind-

"Damn!" It went offline, revealing only static but the audio was unmistakably that of hard impact on the lens. That can only mean a gun!

His monitors flashed away and loud bangs were heard, obviously coming from stun grenades. Miller immediately activated the security lock on his door, reinforcing it further from forced entry. Pressure plates hidden under the floor boards leading to his room would alert him to foot movement going for his direction. Johnny barked loudly in reaction to the noise. Miller flicked off the safety. He tried to phone the sheriff's department but the line was off. _Smart_ , he thought in bitter admiration of the enemy attacking him from within. _How did he get past outside security?_

The clock struck 4 in the morning and _4:00 AM_ began playing.

A loud bang occurred from the basement and his house was plunged into darkness briefly when emergency lights went on. Some went after the fusebox. No matter, his surveillance system had its own emergency power and it fed the cameras, microphones, and motion sensors. But for some reason, his entertainment system was still playing 4:00 AM.

Johnny growled at the direction of the closet. He spun around in his swivel chair and-

The world exploded before him before a brilliant, sparkly white flash and high-pitched buzzing assailed his ears. He felt a hot, searing pain on his shoulders when he tumbled on his side on the floor. He gripped his shoulder tightly with his good hand and when his eyes readjusted to back to ambient light and his hearing returned, he noticed he was shot but more chillingly was a furry form lying on his side trailing red.

"JOHNNY!" Miller screamed as he crept to the Husky and pulled him close in a desperate embrace. His dog was still alive, whining heartrendingly as he felt for the hole and tried to stop the bleeding. "Johnny, just hold on, I'll get you outta here boy."

He did not noticed the now wide-open closet door to see his assailant step out. "How touching it is that you cared for your dog."

That voice. There's mistaking it. "Eli!"

"Don't you dare called me that!" The voice switched from haughty mockery of his consoling of Johnny to red-hot anger instantly. He strode forward. "I hate it."

"So what do I call you now? Liquid Snake, I presume?" he asked bitterly through his teeth.

"So Ocelot did tell you," He hovered above the Hell Master condescendingly. "It seems the Russian spy has a soft spot for you."

"Did he sent you so you can finish the job?" He cursed himself for letting Ocelot sucker him into this. He should have known that he used his confession to lure him into a false sense of security before disposing of him.

"No, Miller," he replied coolly. "I'm here on my own accord. You know you should have secured the crawlspace behind your closet. I've managed to make my way in there."

"And what brings you here?" he asked defiantly, he held on Johnny tighter, desperate for him to hold on longer despite his life ebbing away from his arms.

"I haven't forgotten about you, Miller." He knelt down with his SOCOM still aimed at him. "You think you can just live happily ever after, forgetting 1984?"

"Still bearing a grudge, huh, Eli-"

It earned him a pistol whip to the cheek. "Enough with 'Eli.'"

Miller spat out blood on the floor. "Just finish the damned job."

"Why are you in a hurry, Miller? You think I'll just waste you after you stole from me?"

"Stole from you?" He was puzzled.

"Zanzibarland. You and your disciple wasting Big Boss robbed me of the honor of having to put him away. You robbed me of the opportunity to pit myself against him, surpass in him single combat and take his title as the greatest soldier who ever lived."

"He told me you needed him to cure a little of your DNA problems. You must want his dead ass so badly."

Liquid smirked. "What good is there from beating a hunk of meat? Yes, I need his DNA but I crave a challenge even more." The smirk grew wider. "That lesser sprog of his, Solid Snake, will have to do."

The mention of Snake got Miller looking up to him. "Snake... He's been through enough. Put him out of this."

"Not according to the Pentagon, Ocelot tells me," he mused. "Sooner or later they'll drag him of whatever hole his dug himself into and get him back to action."

"Those bastards..." he said, seething.

"Well, it's obvious considering that he defeated Father twice in the most extreme circumstances, he's more than qualified to handle us or so he thinks."

"But don't you think about how much hell he's been through doing so?" he retorted in outrage on how he could view Snake as a challenge, not the shell he had become.

"It's a pity, really. He, made of entirely of the Soldier Genes, rejects his heritage, telling himself he can return to civilian life. He should have embraced the warrior inside him, take up the sword; there's no place in civilian life for him. He's created to be the perfect soldier, not like me, the expendable scrapping of a substitute."

"He's not just a fighting machine," he shot back, "he's a man. A broken man, to be sure but one who deserves a chance at peace."

"So you tell yourself."

The dog let out a long low moan. _NO!_ his mind screamed. _Johnny!_

Liquid finished off the dog with one shot to the head.

"JOHNNY!" Miller screamed. His hand was filled with blood.

"The dog's dying anyway, you can't focus when you have your hands full on dying animal meat."

"Bastard!" Miller lunged forward, almost grabbing Liquid, he shot backward and kicked Miller back to the floor.

"My point exactly," he said while Kaz writhed on the floor. "Just like back in 1984, when you share with Father a soft spot for animals. He would fulton those species of interest back in Seychelles."

"He had a heart, he gave you a chance, which you threw back at him." He was close to tears as his beloved pet lay with him.

Liquid's eyes shot up in anger. He spat out, "You think I like charity? That I should be grateful he held out his hand for me to grab on, so he can have a chance to make up for what he did to me?"

"You think this is about your shitty abandonment and authority issues? You don't know the whole truth!"

"Ah, but there's two truths I learned in the Congo: you don't wait for something, you take it; what you can't take, you earn. The boys I lead where scared, confused, and without a clue how to survive out on their own after escaping that hellish compound. In order to get their acknowledgement as leader, I showed them how live off the land, how to stake out a settlement, how to patrol a perimeter, how to work as a team. They would have died otherwise or worse. Much of life since then was based on seizing opportunities and earning others. That's how you survive.

"You get the Metal Gear and if Washington acquiesces, the money and Big Boss's corpse, and you're still dead set in drawing Solid Snake to your little fistfight?"

"To truly surpass my father I need to be the man who defeated him twice. There can only be one Snake, Miller, and by winning I will revive my father's dream, my birthright: Outer Heaven."

"Outer Heaven...? That's just a pipe dream now. What Big Boss wants would plunge the world into chaos."

"Like your mercenary business hasn't," he quipped sarcastically. "No, Miller, the world has gone soft and will want to remain that way. Only by reviving Outer Heaven will the world find its legs. War will make men strong again, by fighting he truly expresses himself. A man who fights does not whine about the inconveniences or state of the world. In war he becomes part of the natural order in its purest form."

Madness indeed! All he could think of was Paz and how much he should've listened while he had the chance, however fake a facade she put up. "Don't be so cocky there, boy." It earned from Liquid a glare that expressed his distaste for this affront. "Snake will eat your ass again. If he can take on Big Boss twice, he most certainly can do away with you."

"We'll see about that," he answered. He checked his watch. "You know, besides to tie up loose ends, I thought killing you would make it work my way. You're one of the few people Snake trusts."

What Miller had in mind hit him hard. "No..."

"Yes." He smirked. "He may have been the one man who defeated the legendary soldier twice but is he truly the sharpest tool in the shed? If he's a bit of a dullard if he's file is correct I may make use of him."

"Snake will find out! He'll see through your bullshit. He won't be somebody's pawn, certainly not yours."

"That remains to be seen as well." He checked his watch. "It's been lovely chatting but I have an revolt to plan, a CEO to interrogate, and a weapon to fine tune."

"And oh, before you leave," Miller said. "I have something in my safe. You're gonna love it. My confessions to say the least."

"Oh, dear Miller," he said condescendingly. "I'm not interest in the drafts of your memoirs. I supposed I should end this house call."

 _You're not sharp yourself_ , he thought about Liquid throwing away an opportunity to expand his perspective. _You haven't really learned at all since '84_. He smiled. "I win, Ocelot." The ending solo of 4:00 AM began to herald the inevitable.

So the life of Kazuhira Miller ended with a suppressed shot from a SOCOM pistol at 5:00 AM. No one noticed the figure emerging from the backdoor, wearing sunglasses, taking a walk to the woods to get to a hidden snowmobile, which he took to a cove with a waiting seaplane. It would take him back to Shadow Moses island, weather conditions permitting, flying low in the water to avoid radar until he arrives.

* * *

A/N: Enjoy the fic, don't forget a review. The best (MGS1) is yet to come.


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